c 

»S»£S 


ire  IN 

REST 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD 
AND  FOREST 

THE- ANIMALS-  BIRDS 
FROGS  •  AND  •  SALAMANDERS 


BY 

F.   SCHUYLER   MATHEWS 

AUTHOR  OF  FAMILIAR  FLOWERS  OF  FIELD  AND  GARDEN, 
FAMILIAR  TREES  AND  THEIR  LEAVES,  FAMILIAR  FEATURES 
OF  THE  ROADSIDE,  THE  BEAUTIFUL  FLOWER  GARDEN,  ETC. 


WITH  NUMEROUS  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
THE  AUTHOR,  AND  PHOTOGRAPHS  FROM 
NATURE  BY  W.  LYMAN  UNDERWOOD 


NEW    YORK 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

i; 


COPYRIGHT,  1898, 
BY  D.   APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


PKEFACE. 


THERE  are  few  things  more  gratifying  to  the 
lover  of  Nature  than  those  momentary  glimpses  of 
wild  life  which  he  obtains  while  passing  through  the 
field  or  forest.  Wild  animals  do  not  confine  them- 
selves exclusively  to  the  wilderness ;  quite  frequently 
they  venture  upon  the  highway,  and  we  are  apt  to 
regard  the  meeting  with  one  of  them  there  as  a  rare 
and  fortunate  occurrence. 

The  daisy  and  the  wild  rose  appear  in  their  ap- 
pointed places  on  the  return  of  summer,  and  the  song 
sparrow  sings  in  the  same  tree  he  frequented  the  year 
before  ;  but  the  woodchuck,  the  raccoon,  and  the  deer 
are  not  so  often  found  exactly  where  we  think  they 
belong.  To  seek  an  interview  with  such  wild  folk  is 
like  taking  a  chance  in  a  lottery  :  there  are  numerous 
blanks  and  bat  few  prizes. 

But  because  wild  life  is  not  in  constant  evidence, 
like  the  wild  flower,  is  no  proof  that  it  is  uncommon. 

To  those  who  keep  in  touch  with  Nature  it  becomes 

iii 


iv        FAMILIAR  LIFE   IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

a  very  familiar  thing,  and  to  live  a  while  where  the 
wild  creatures  make  their  homes  is  to  cross  their 
paths  continually.  I  have  not  failed  to  meet  that 
much-slandered  animal,  the  skunk,  every  summer  for 
seven  years  past,  yet  with  no  unhappy  results  ;  I  have 
haunted  a  fox's  hole  the  better  part  of  one  season, 
and  have  evidently  crossed  his  freshly  made  tracks, 
but  with  not  one  lucky  chance  at  the  sight  of  him ; 
yet  when  I  had  no  thought  of  Reynard  and  was 
searching  the  woods  for  the  Cypripedium,  there  he 
was!  On  another  occasion  he  was  unexpectedly  en- 
countered in  the  open  pasture  by  some  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  household,  and  still  later  he  was  seen 
seated  on  the  highway  not  very  far  from  the  pet  cat. 

One  can  never  tell  at  what  moment  some  surpris- 
ing demonstration  of  wild  life  will  occur  at  one's  very 
doorstep.  What  with  two  deer,  nine  weasels,  and  a 
performing  bear,  all  of  which  appeared  in  one  day 
last  summer  close  to  my  studio,  I  concluded  that  our 
tame  mountain  retreat  had  relapsed  again  to  the  wild 
and  happy  conditions  of  the  primitive  forest.  But  I 
was  forced  to  change  my  mind  a  few  days  after,  when 
an  Italian  with  his  organ  ground  out  "  Johnny,  get 
your  gun"  within  forty  feet  of  the  spot  where  the 
wild  deer  had  stood. 

It  may  be  largely  a  matter  of  good  fortune  if  one 
catches  a  glimpse  of  some  wild  creature  of  the  woods 


PREFACE.  v 

in  the  way  I  have  just  described ;  hut  in  the  forest  it 
unquestionably  depends  upon  the  skillful  movements 
and  quiet  demeanor  of  the  observer  that  he  can  see 
without  being  seen.     The  wild  animals  never  become 
familiar  to  one  who  is  heedless  and  impatient.     The 
waggle  of  a  leaf  or  the  snapping  of  a  twig  sends  the 
timid  burrower  to   the  depths   of   his   hole,  and  it 
requires  more  than  the  patience  of  Job  to  await  his 
reappearance.      It    is    necessary   to    count    time   by 
heart-throbs   rather  than   seconds  when  one   enters 
the  woodland;  indeed,  it  is  possibly  better  to  take 
no  account  of  it  at  all,  but  lavish  it  generously  upon 
chances.     Perhaps  such  an  apparent  waste  of  time 
would  be  called  loafing;  if  so,  then  Thoreau  was  a 
magnificent  loafer.    But  loafers  do  not  bequeath  to  us 
a  world  of  woodland  knowledge  such  as  Thoreau  did. 
We   are  at  fault  because  we   do   not   enter  the 
wood  and  do  a  little  thinking  on  our  own  account. 
Perhaps  if  we  did  we  would  discover  that  the  deer, 
the  marten,  the  loon,  and  the  bear  were  not  half  so 
uncommon  as  we  thought  they  were.     ]STor  can  we 
rely  wholly  upon  what  the  books   say.      Audubon, 
Wilson,  Rymer  Jones,  and  Elliott  Coues  are  all  well 
enough  in  their  way,  but  they  smack  somewhat  of 
ancient  history.     The  development  of  natural  history 
in  this  country  is  of  very  recent  date ;  one  naturalist 
has  informed  me  that  up  to  about  ten  years  ago  one 


vi       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

of  the  most  remarkable  and  typical  little  mammals 
of  Florida,  a  water  rat  (Microtus  neofiber  allenii\ 
had  absolutely  no  record  whatever.  In  a  pamphlet  en- 
titled The  Land  Mammals  of  Florida,  by  Mr.  Outram 
Bangs  (1898),  of  seventy-three  forms  described,  seven- 
teen are  new.  When  Wilson  wrote,  in  1812,  he  knew 
positively  nothing  at  all  of  the  songs  of  the  nightin- 
gale of  America — the  hermit  thrush — and  the  veery, 
the  thrush  named  for  him !  Even  in  so  late  a  book 
as  The  Fur-bearing  Animals  of  Elliott  Coues,  the 
European  ermine  is  confused  with  two  of  our  Ameri- 
can weasels.  Such  an  error  as  that  in  these  days  of 
greater  light  would  be  deemed  inexcusable. 

It  is  to  some  of  the  younger  students  of  Nature 
that  we  are  indebted  for  a  more  concise  knowledge 
of  the  relationship  of  animals — in  other  words,  the 
exact  identification  of  distinct  species  and  varieties. 
Dr.  Merriam  makes  this  fact  plain  in  the  following 
tribute  to  the  work  of  Mr.  Bangs.  He  says :  "  Until 
very  recently  the  group  of  weasels  has  been  in  a  state 
of  chaos,  but  now,  thanks  to  Mr.  Outram  Bangs's  ex- 
cellent paper  entitled  A  Review  of  the  Weasels  of 
Eastern  North  America,  the  obscurity  that  has  so 
long  surrounded  our  Eastern  species  has  been  cleared 
away."  * 

*  Vide  United  States  Department  of  Agriculture,  Division  of 
Ornithology  and  Mammals.     Bulletin  No.  11,  June,  1896. 


PREFACE.  vii 

There  is  more  in  a  name  in  natural  history  than 
one  would  suppose.  The  change,  in  these  latter  days, 
of  a  Latin  name  generally  means  that  the  exact  na- 
ture of  the  beast  is  at  last  discovered.  For  instance, 
the  flying  squirrel,  Sciuropterus  sabrinus,  is  a  large, 
and  in  winter  a  distinctly  yellow-tinged,  gray-coated 
creature,  whose  white  chest  fur,  if  you  blow  it,  is 
lead-colored  at  the  base.  The  commoner  species, 
Sciuropterus  volans  volans,  is  a  different  animal, 
whose  under  fur  is  quite  white.  Not  many  years 
ago  these  two  squirrels  were  not  distinguished  apart 
and  therefore  were  known  by  one  name.  To-day 
the  old  name  for  the  Virginia  deer,  Cariacus  vir- 
ginianus,  is  displaced  by  the  newer  one,  Odocoileus 
virginianus*  The  recent  change  means  that  until 
this  last  winter  (1898)  this  particular  species  has  not 
been  properly  distinguished  apart  from  other  species. 

But  I  can  not  lightly  pass  the  old  and  inestima- 
bly valuable  works  of  Audubon,  Wilson,  and  Elliott 
Coues  without  a  tribute  to  their  excellence.  These 
great  naturalists  were  pioneers,  and  all  they  have  to 
say  is  worthy  of  the  closest  study;  consequently  I 
have  freely  quoted  such  passages  from  their  works  as 
I  considered  would  throw  a  strong  light  on  the  sub- 

*  Vide  Proceedings  of  the  Biological  Society  of  Washington, 
p.  99,  1898. 


viii     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

ject.  Regarding  Dr.  Clinton  Hart  Merriam's  Ani- 
mals of  the  Adirondacks,  I  can  only  add  that  I  con- 
sider it  a  classic,  and  until  some  writer  shall  exceed 
its  simple  and  attractive  presentation  of  important 
facts,  it  must  be  regarded,  as  far  as  it  goes,  as  the 
best  biography  of  American  animals  which  we  to-day 


It  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  times  change, 
a  scientific  knowledge  of  animals  grows,  and  the  wild 
creatures  themselves  shift  their  position  over  the 
land.  What  was  supposed  to  be  uncommon  or  ex- 
tinct twenty  years  ago  can  not  be  regarded  so  to-day. 
The  borders  of  abandoned  farms  are  constantly — not 
rarely — invaded  by  animals  who  were  not  supposed 
to  live  within  miles  of  the  old  places.  Occasionally 
an  otter,  a  lynx,  a  deer,  or  a  bear  turns  up  most  un- 
expectedly, and  immediately  all  the  country  turns  out 
to  hunt  the  creature  down. 

Unfortunately,  we  have  no  proper  appreciation  of 
the  inherent  good  in  a  wild  animal ;  one  would  think, 
by  the  way  men  acted,  that  it  had.no  right  to  live. 
There  is  no  logical  reason  why  we  should  slay  a 
snake,  skunk,  fox,  weasel  or  raccoon  unless  it  be- 
comes a  public  nuisance  and  we  are  compelled  to 
put  an  end  to  its  depredations. 

There  is  something  satisfactory  in  the  feeling  of 
our  own  harrnlessness  in  the  presence  of  some  poor 


PREFACE.  ix 

frightened  creature  whose  wild  eyes  betray  the  fear 
that  we  are  a  deadly  enemy ;  and  with  what  comfort- 
ing assurance  we  hasten  to  say,  "  No,  you  are  greatly 
mistaken,  I  bear  you  no  ill ;  I  am  your  friend."  If 
only  the  poor  thing  could  know  that,  how  much  hap- 
pier the  world  would  wag  on  ! 

One  feels  just  a  bit  of  exultant  pleasure  when  one 
sees  the  little  wild  thing  approach,  timidly  accept  a 
proffered  nut  or  a  crust  of  bread,  and  actually  eat  it 
within  reaching  distance.  I  recall  with  no  small 
feeling  of  satisfaction  the  time  when,  idly  paddling 
my  canoe  beside  the  ^^^^  river  bank,  I  met 
a  great  blue  heron  slow-  ^^%>\  ty  strolling 
along  the  sandy  margin, 
remained  beside  him  for  fully 
twenty  minutes  an  acceptable  com- 
panion.  Nor  do  I  forget  the  time 
when  I  approached,  softly  whistling  the 
while,  a  brown,  heron  standing  motion- 
less  on  the  meadow,  and  got  so  near  him 
that  I  could  see  the  round  shape  of  his  eye  as  plain- 
ly as  I  have  drawn  it  here.  There  is  a  certain 
charm  in  music  for  the  wild  animals.  I  have  whis- 
tled by  the  half  hour  to  the  hermit  thrush  and  have 
received  an  appreciative  and  cordial  response ;  the 
veery  grows  quite  excited  if  I  imitate  his  spiral 
song;  the  red  squirrel  sits  transfixed  if  I  play  for 


x         FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

him  on  an  insignificant  ten-cent  harmonicon.  One 
time  I  noticed  a  particularly  vociferous  fellow  sub- 
side, cross  his  hands  on  his  breast,  and  listen  respect- 
fully to  the  soothing  strains  of  "  Home,  sweet  home." 

All  this  goes  to  prove  that  the  wild  life  of  the 
woods  is  not  unapproachable.  It  may  be  difficult  to 
cultivate  its  friendship,  but  it  responds.  It  is  an 
easy  matter  to  pick  a  daisy  and  carelessly  throw  it 
away ;  but  when  we  have  persuaded  a  wild  bii  d  or  a 
squirrel  to  eat  from  our  hand,  we  never  throw  the 
memory  of  that  away :  it  abides  with  us  forever ! 

Guns  and  traps  are  all  very  well  in  their  way,  but 
a  conscience  void  of  offense  to  the  animal  world  is 
better.  There  never  was  a  world  more  peculiarly 
beset  with  enemies  of  all  kinds  and  degrees  than  the 
wild  animal  world ;  it  has  to  make  a  fight  of  life, 
anyway ;  and  then  there  is  the  common  enemy,  man, 
to  reckon  with,  who  crushes  the  snake,  hunts  the  fox 
and  bear,  worries  the  woodchuck,  shoots  the  bird,  traps 
the  marten,  kills  the  deer,  and  makes  war  generally 
upon  all  wild  life  without  discrimination.  One  of  these 
days,  when  the  cutworm,  the  grasshopper,  the  field 
mouse,  the  army  worm,  and  the  gypsy  moth  devour  the 
farm,  house  and  all,  we  will  wonder  what  has  become 
of  the  beneficent  skunk,  weasel,  and  snake.  Per- 
haps we  have  yet  time  enough  to  give  these  poor  crea- 
tures a  chance  to  learn  we  are  friends,  and  not  enemies. 


PREFACE.  xi 

I  have  no  excuse  for  these  imperfect  records  of 
my  own  experience  with  wild  animals  except  the  one 
that  I  have  lived  long  enough  among  them  to  respect 
their  rights  of  life  and  speak  a  good  word  for  them 
when  occasion  offers.  There  is  only  one  creature  I 
know  of  who  seems  to  be  a  thoroughly  ugly  char- 
acter, afflicted  with  a  most  uncontrollable  and  vicious 
temper — that  is,  the  Injun  Devil,  or  wild  cat  (Lynx 
canadensis).  Fortunately,  he  rarely  appears  this  side 
of  the  Canadian  border;  when  he  does,  the  hunter 
gives  him  no  peace,  for  there  is  no  peace  where  he 
exists. 

I  wish  to  add,  that  without  the  valuable  assistance 
of  Prof.  Samuel  G-arman,  Mr.  Outram  Bangs,  and 
Mr.  Samuel  Henshaw,  which  I  most  gratefully  ac- 
knowledge, I  never  would  have  been  able  to  gather 
together  the  latest  scientific  facts  regarding  the  ani- 
mals. Also,  the  book  would  have  lost  much  without 
Mr.  W.  Lyman  Underwood's  contribution  of  photo- 
graphs from  Nature.  But  the  fact  is,  two  heads  are 
always  better  than  one ;  and  consequently  the  book, 
which  is  not  the  selfish  outcome  of  one  man's 
thoughts,  escapes  at  least  one  fault — it  is  not  one- 
sided. 

F.  SCHUYLER  MATHEWS. 

EL  FUREIDIS,  BLAIR,  CAMPTON,  N.  H., 
May,  1898. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — EARLY  VOICES  OF  SPRING 1 

II. — THE  CROAKERS 22 

III. — SONGLESS   BATRACHIANS 36 

IV. — OUR   ANCIENT   ENEMY   THE    OPHIDIAN      ....         57 

V. — ACCOMPLISHED  VOCALISTS 81 

VI. — STRANGE  CREATURES  WITH  STRANGE  VOICES        .        .      96 

VII. — FURRY  FRIENDS  WITH  FINE  SKINS       .        .        .        .112 

VIII. — FUR-CLAD  FIGHTERS 127 

IX. — TWO   FAMOUS    SWIMMERS 147 

X.— THAT  FAMOUS  ESSENCE  PEDDLER         .        .        .        .161 

XI. — THE    KING    OF   THE   WILDERNESS 180 

XII. — A    MISCHIEVOUS    NEIGHBOR 202 

XIII. — THE  FARMER'S  SLY  NEIGHBOR 213 

XIV. — A    FLEET-FOOTED    NEIGHBOR   IN   THE   WOODS  .  .      228 

XV. — A    SEMIANNUAL   SLEEPER    AND    A    NIGHTLY    PROWLER      .      245 

XVI. — SMALL  FOLK  WITH  LIVELY  FEET 259 

xiii 


LIST   OF   FULL-PAGE   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


FACIJfG 
PAGE 


Young  foxes Frontispiece 

The  muskrat 2 

Pickering's  hyla 6 

The  bullfrog 31 

The  home  of  the  red  salamander .47 

The  banks  of   the   Pemigewasset,  the  home  of  the  black- 
billed  cuckoo 85 

The  yellowhammer 87 

The  bittern 98 

The  Pemigewasset  River,  at  Blair's  bridge,  and  the  Shel- 
drake— Merganser  serrator 105 

The  wolverene 114 

The  mink 149 

The  otter 157 

"  A  particularly  clever  skunk " 172 

At  the  twilight  hour,  Mt.  Chocorua,  White  Mountains       .  183 

Black  bear 191 

The  raccoon 203 

"  Out  of  harm's  way,  treed  " 207 

xv 


Xvi      FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD   AND  FOREST. 

FACING 
PAGE 

"On  the  whole  he  is  a  good-natured  beast"       .         .        .210 

A  glimpse  of  a  family  of  foxes 218 

Young  foxes 222 

Young  deer 233 

Deer  in  Blue  Mountain  Park,  Newport,  N.  H.     .  238 

The  porcupine 254 

"It  was  not  difficult  for  him  to  climb  a  tree"  .         .         .     258 

The  gray  rabbit 260 

Chipmunk .274 


FAMILIAR  LIFE 
IN  FIELD   AND   FOREST. 


CHAPTEK  I. 

EARLY  VOICES  OF  SPRING. 
The  Hyla.  Acris,  Chorophilus,  and  Bufo. 

TiiE  path  that  follows  the  course  of  the  stream 
through  the  meadow  is  bordered  with  miniature 
leaflets  which  are  growing  rapidly  in  the  sunbeams 
of  early  April.  The  young  fuzzy  leaves  of  the  liver- 
wort (Hepatica  triloba)  at  our  feet  are  in  company 
with  a  few  promising  buds,  but  the  old  brown  leaves 
that  have  survived  the  winter  snows  are  still  reluc- 
tant to  give  up  life  and  let  the  younger  generation 
carry  it  forward.  The  brook  is  rushing  tumultuously 
toward  the  river,  with  no  time  to  linger  now  in  the 
pebbly  depths  where  last  August  all  was  quiet,  and 
the  lazy  trout  scarcely  moved  his  tail  to  keep  his 
place  under  the  sheltering  bank.  Farther  along 
where  the  brook  widens  at  the  level  of  the  river,  in 

a  snarl  of  freshet- dragged  alders  and  willows,  there 
2  l 


2          FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

is  a  muskrat  busily  engaged  in  gnawing  a  tender 
twig,  all  impatience  and  hurry ;  possibly  the  creature 
is  building  a  nest.  As  we  wander  along  a  little  far- 
ther a  little  green  snake  in  the  new  grass  glides  out 
of  our  path.  But  we  pass  on ;  we  must  reach  the 
hollow  in  the  meadow  where  strange,  shrill  voices 
are  piping  in  a  chorus  more  deafening  than  the  ves- 
per hymn  of  the  million  sparrows  which  congregate 
on  the  bare  twigs  of  the  trees  in  the  old  graveyard 
of  King's  Chapel,  in  Boston,  at  five  in  the  afternoon. 

At  last  we  reach  the  grassy  margin  of  a  shallow 
pool,  only  to  find — nothing !  And  somehow  we  have 
succeeded  in  silencing  the  innumerable  voices.  Ap- 
parently there  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  sit  down  on 
the  end  of  a  neighboring  log  and  patiently  wait. 
Soon  a  venturesome  peeper  begins  again ;  then  an- 
other, and  another,  until  in  about  ten  minutes  the 
chorus  is  going  again  full  blast.  It  proceeds  from  a 
hundred  little  throats  of  frogs  less  than  an  inch  long, 
all  but  invisible  in  the  shallow  pool. 

Hyla  pickeringii — for  this  is  the  name  of  the 
noisy  creature — is  a  familiar  representative  of  the 
HylidoB  family,  and  is  the  earliest  piper  of  spring  in 
the  cold  bogs  and  meadows  of  the  hill  country.  Far- 
ther south  the  rattling  note  of  the  cricket  frog  is 
heard  quite  as  early,  and  even  that  of  the  common 
toad.  But  Pickering's  Hyla  starts  in  with  emphatic 


THE    MUSKRAT. 
FIBER   ZIBETHICUS. 

"Busily  engaged  in  gnawing 
a  tender  twig." 

Photographed  from  life  by 
W.  Lyman  Underwood. 


EARLY  VOICES  OF  SPRING.  3 

insistence  on  the  fact  that  spring  is  here,  notwith- 
standing the  patches  of  meadow  snow  and  ice  which 
still  linger  on  the  shadowy  borders.  The  more 
southern  pipers  do  not  have  to  brave  these  last  foot- 
prints of  the  winter  king  so  continually,  and  I  can 
not  therefore  consider  them  the  earliest  of  all  spring 
singers. 

It  is  a  most  remarkable  circumstance  that  Picker- 
ing's Hyla  is  always  heard,  but  is  seldom  seen.  He 
has  a  disappointing  way  of 
submerging  himself  to  his 
very  eyelids  in  the  chilly  bog. 
With  the  mercury  at  fifty  de- 
grees he  will  pipe  up  at  about 
four  or  five  in  the  afternoon.  If 
we  wish  to  catch  him  in  the  act 
we  must  choose  a  warmer  day,  ^ 

when  the  mercury  stands  at  sixty          spring  Peeper 
degrees,  sit  patiently  and  immova-     ^SS^STtoS.11 
bly  on  the  log  for  a  good  half  hour, 
and  scan  the  surface  of  the  pool  near  the  margin  with 
an  opera  glass.     Here  we  will  be  sure  to  see  the  bulgy 
eyes  and  the  tip  of  the  nose  just  appearing  above 
the  water,  and  if  we  are  fortunate,  we  may  see  one 
of  the  tiny  ocher-yellow  creatures  perched  on  some 
withered  cat-tail  leaf,  singing  his  song  in  plain  view 
through  the   glass.      Such   a  tremendous   effort  he 


4         FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

makes  to  throw  out  the  liquid  whistle,  no  wonder  it 
can  be  heard  on  a  still  afternoon  nearly  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  away !  Beneath  his  chin  the  skin  is  swelled 
out  like  a  brownish- white  bubble  half  the  size  of  his 
whole  body.  Imagine  a  man  swelling  his  throat 
thus  until  it  took  a  balloon  shape  fully  three  feet  in 
diameter,  and  then  letting  the  thing  collapse  with  a 
deafening  scream  that  could  be  heard  fully  eighteen 
miles !  Yet  this,  supposing  the  Hylds  size  and  voice 
could  be  proportionately  increased,  is  exactly  what 
would  happen. 

The  muscular  effort  which  the  tiny  creature 
makes  to  empty  his  lungs  seems  not  only  to  collapse 
the  "bubble,"  but  most  of  the  body,  so  that  when 
he  has  let  out  one  shrill  whistle  there  is  apparently 
nothing  left  but  his  back,  head,  and  legs.  But  in 
another  instant  he  has  swelled  again,  and  the  per- 
formance goes  on  with  no  evidence  that  even  the 
smallest  blood-vessel  will  burst.  Different  individu- 
als answer  each  other  in  different  tones,  but  the 
dominant  one  is  E  slurred  to  F,  in  the  highest 
octave  on  the  piano,  f)J=72^j  j  ^  an(^  the  son£ 


is     pitched  —  by    a  l/fob    \      \      \     \  slight    effort 


of    the    imagination      J  — in  the  key 

of  F  minor.  Other  individuals  with  larger  throats 
disturb  this  key  by  singing  thus,  y  Pffi-  f~~^~~[  anc^  B^ 
others  exasperatingly  out  of  time  ivy  1  *  and  tune 


EARLY  VOICES  OF   SPRING.  5 

sing  either  sharp  or  flat.  So  the  whole  effect  is  shrill 
rather  than  melodic,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
the  F  is  constantly  suggesting  the  finale  of  a  plaintive 
melody. 

But  that  is  just  like  Nature  —  she  is  ever  suggest- 
ing, and  leaving  all  beyond  to  our  imagination.     A 
close   examination  of  the  body  of  the 
little      frog     emphasizes     this      fact. 
There   is   a    strong    suggestion   of   a 
Saint  Andrew's   cross  on  his  ocher- 
colored*  back,  unmistakably  defined 
in  narrow  lines,  and  a  narrow  dark 
line  extends  from  the  tip  of  the  nose 
to  the  eye.      The  X  is  quite  suffi- 
ciently plain  to  prevent    any  con-       ".  spring  Peeper, 

J  J  showing  the  St.  An- 


fusion  in  the  identification  of    Hy-         drew1s  cross  on 

the  back. 

la  piclceringii    with     young    tree 
toads  (Hyla  versicolor\  or  with  other  frogs  of  simi- 
lar size  and  color,  for  no  other  small  frog  is  marked 
with  a  cross. 

This  Hyla  is  a  characteristic  tree  frog,  who  with 
his  padded  toes  ascends  the  tallest  trees  with  ease, 
and  takes  to  the  water  only  for  a  brief  time  in 
spring,  which  is  his  nuptial  season.  When  the 


*  It  may  be  slightly  green,  as  the  frog  possesses  to  a  certain 
degree  the  power  of  color  change. 


6          FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

breeding  season  is  over,  about  the  first  of  July,*  he 
may  still  be  found — but  rarely — among  the  damp, 
fallen  leaves  of  the  woods,  or  even  in  cellars.  How 
the  creatures  manage  to  keep  themselves  so  com- 
pletely out  of  sight  in  spring  and  summer  is  always 
a  mystery.  It  is  not  until  the  latter  part  of  August 
that  they  ascend  the  trees,  and  only  once  in  a  long 
while  have  I  heard  the  plaintive  but  unmistakably 
clear  whistle  of  one  in  the  woods  toward  the  close  of 
September.  Prof.  E.  D.  Cope  speaks  of  the  autum- 
nal voice  of  this  frog  thus  :  "  When  the  wind  is  cast- 
ing the  first  frosted  leaves  to  the  ground,  a  whistle, 
weaker  than  the  spring  cry,  is  heard  repeated  at  in- 
tervals during  the  day,  from  one  part  of  the  forest 
to  another,  bearing  considerable  resemblance  to  the 
note  of  the  purple  finch  {Carpodaeus  purpureus) 
uttered  while  it  is  flying." 

The  geographical  distribution  of  Pickering's  Hyla 
is  extensive.  He  is  found  from  east  of  the  Central 
Plains  to  the  Atlantic,  and  from  Canada  to  Florida 
and  Texas. 

The  form  of  this  Hyla  approaches  that  of  a 
more  southern  genus  called  Chorophilus,  one  species 

*  It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  this  Hyla  is  apt  to  choose  tempo- 
rary pieces  of  water  in  the  hollows  of  the  meadow  for  its  breeding 
places,  because,  as  the  season  advances  and  the  water  evaporates, 
whole  colonies  of  its  tadpoles  dry  up  and  miserably  perish  in  the 
hot  sun. 


PICKERING'S   HYLA. 
HYLA   PICKERINGII. 

"In  the  latter  part  of  August 
they  ascend  the  trees." 


EARLY   VOICES  OF  SPRING. 


of   which   I  describe  farther  on,  but  it  has  larger 
"footpads." 

The  cricket  frog,  or  Savannah  cricket  (Acris  gryl- 
lus), a  little  creature  a  trifle  over  an  inch  long,  com- 
monly found  as  far  north  as  southern  New  York,  is 
the  only  known  representative  of  this  genus.  In 
more  southern  marshes  —  those,  for  instance,  of 
New  Jersey — we  may  happen  to  hear  both  Pick- 
ering's Hyla  and  the  cricket  frog  singing  in  com- 
pany. 

But  Acris  gryllus  has  a  distinct  voice  of  his  own. 
He  does  not  whistle  an  uninterrupted  note,  but 
breaks  into  musical  crepitations  some- 
what resembling  the  broken  tone  of 
a  rattle  whistle.  His  voice  has  the 
same  character  as  that  of  the 
common  toad,  but  its  quality  is 
more  nearly  like  that  of  the  tree 
cricket.  More  than  one  natural- 
ist has  suggested  its  likeness  to 
the  rapid  striking  together  of  two 
pebbles,  but  to  my  ear  the  pebbles  are  not  musical 
enough  ;  impart  to  them  some  of  the  cheery  jin- 
gle of  sleighbells  and  then  I  will  admit  the  simili- 
tude. 


Savannah  Cricket 
(Acris  gryllus). 


In  appearance  the  cricket  frog  altogether  differs 


8          FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

from  the  Hyla ;  there  are  no  distinct  pads  on  the 
toes,*  and  consequently  he  seldom  if  ever  ascends 
trees  or  bushes.  His  general  color  is  variable.  With 
the  tree  toad  (Hyla  versicolor)  he  possesses  a  cer- 
tain power  of  color  change,  or  metachrosis,  and 
while  he  may  be  dull  green  in  an  environment  of 
green  leaves,  among  dead  ones  he  is  quite  as  like- 
ly to  be  brown.  There  is  a  very  characteristic 
blackish,  triangular  patch  between  the  eyes,  the 
apex  of  which  is  directed  backward.  This  is 
margined  by  a  light  color,  sometimes  greenish, 
sometimes  rusty,  and  as  often  dull  white.  This 
marginal  color  of  the  triangle  is  continued  in  a 
dorsal  stripe  to  the  end  of  the  body.  The  ex- 
treme northeasterly  limit  of  this  frog  is  New  Haven, 
Conn. 

But  there  are  two  varieties  of  this  Acris,  differ- 
ing slightly  in  form  and  appearance  from  the  species 
proper ;  one  of  northern  distribution  is  called  Acris 
gryllus  crepitans,  and  another  of  southern  distribu- 
tion (from  North  Carolina  to  Florida  and  Louisiana) 
is  called  Acris  gryllus  gryllus.  With  the  latter  we 
have  nothing  to  do,  as  it  is  south  of  our  range ;  but 
the  former  is  likely  to  engage  our  attention  in  the 

*  These  are  furnished,  however,  with  very  slightly  enlarged 
disks. 


EARLY  VOICES  OF  SPRING.  9 

West  as  far  north  as  Illinois,  and  also  in  the  East  in 
southern  Pennsylvania.* 

William  Hamilton  Gibson  has  made  a  most  truth- 
ful drawing  of  the  Acris  gryllus  crepitans  to  ac- 
company his  article  in  Harper's  Young  People  for 
March  25,  1890.  Dr.  Abbott  also  frequently  refers 
to  Acris  crepitans^  but  I  question  whether  either 
he  or  Mr.  Gibson  actually  heard  this  species.  It  is 
far  more  likely  that  they  heard  the  Acris  gryllus  / 
still,  I  have  no  means  of  positively  knowing  this. 
According  to  Professor  Cope,  Acris 
gryllus  crepitans  has  no  record  east  of 
Carlisle,  Pa. 

The     subspecies     Acris     gryllus 
crepitans  has  three  oblique  blotches  on 
the   sides,    which   are   very   prominent, 

,,,-,.,  i  TT     Savannah  Cricket 

and   the  limbs  are  muscular  and  well     (Acris  gryiius 

developed.  J  crepitans). 

The  note  of  this  species,  it  is  said,  may  be   ex- 

*  More  particularly  in  Carlisle,  Cumberland  County. 

f  Vide  Outings  at  Odd  Times,  pages  107, 108 ;  also  Days  Out  of 
Doors,  pages  34-37.  I  doubt  very  much  though,  whether  the  Acris 
can  whistle  and  crepitate  too.  This  would  be  contrary  to  Nature, 
for  reasons  which  are  too  many  for  me  to  explain. 

\  Professor  Cope  also  gives  the  following  anatomical  defini- 
tion of  this  subspecies :  "  Acris  gryllus  crepitans.  Hinder  foot,  not 
including  the  tarsus  (that  part  of  the  foot  above  the  instep),  less 
than  half  the  length  of  head  and  body  combined ;  skin  tubercles 
larger ;  posterior  femoral  (hind  leg)  stripe  less  distinct." 


10        FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

actly  imitated  by  striking  two  marbles  together,  first 
slowly,  then  faster  and  faster,  for  a  succession  of 
about  twenty  or  thirty  beats.  The  noise  can  not  be 
heard  at  a  very  great  distance. 

The  little  frog  is  prominently  marked  on  the 
back  with  green,  and  has  the  same  dark  triangle  on 
the  crown  as  that  described  for  the  species  proper. 
He  remains  in  the  tall  grass  around  the  marsh,  and 
seldom  if  ever  ascends  a  tree  or  bush.  When  pur- 
sued he  leaps  extraordinary  distances  and  invariably 
makes  for  the  water,  into  which  he  disappears  just 
as  we  reach  the  margin  after  much  clumsy  slumping 
through  the  bog  and  vain  grabbing  at  the  unattain- 
able. Only  one  who  has  lost  a  frog  this 
way  knows  anything  about  the  sudden  men- 
tal activity  of  the  baffled  pursuer  as  he 
stands  gazing  at  the  mocking  ripples. 

The  genus  Acris  is  distinguished  for 
its  swimming  powers.  Look  at  my  draw- 
ino-  of  the  hind  leg  and  note  the  webbed 

(A.  gryllus 

toes  ;  now  compare  this  with  the  hind  leg 


of  Chorophilus  triseriatus  (page  11).  and  it  will  be 
seen  that  the  latter  can  not  be  much  of  a  swimmer. 

The  Chorophilus  triseriatus^  another  singer  in 
early  spring,  about  the  same  size  as  the  cricket  frog, 
may  be  heard  in  the  West,  and  in  the  East  as  far 
north  as  central  New  Jersey.  This  frog  is  ash-gray 


EARLY  VOICES  OF  SPRING.  H 

striped  with  three  brown  lines,  or  sometimes  fawn 
color  with  the  brown  stripes  broader ;  the  yellow- 
white  beneath  is  distinctly  granulated. 
Professor  Cope  says,  "It  delights  in 
those  small  and  often  temporary  pieces 
of  water  which  are  inclosed  in  the 
densest  thickets  of  spiny  Smilax  and 
Rubus,  with  scrub  oaks,  and  sur-  ^ 

.  n      ,       Three-striped  Frog 

rounded   by   the   water -loving    Ceph-      (choropinius 
alanthus,  where   no   shade  interrupts 
the  full  glow  of  sunlight.     Here  the  little  frogs  may 
be  heard  in  the  hottest  part  of  the  day,  accompanied 
by  a  few  Acris  gryllus,  or  rarely  a  Hyla  pickeringii 
....  As  they  scarcely  swim,  when  surprised  they 
seek  refuge  in  the  edge  of  the  water,  with  so  little 
movement  that  their  capture  is  no  easy  matter." 

In  southwestern  New  Jersey  the  swamps 
resound  with  the  rattling  notes  of  these 
frogs  throughout  the  spring  and  sometimes 
in  the  summer.  They  sing  not  only  in 
the  evening  but  at  midday,  just  as  the  com- 
mon toad  does.  The  music  is  extremely 
soft — rising,  swelling,  and  subsiding  like 
(c.  triseri-  faQ  waves  of  the  seashore.  I  can  best 

atus). 

represent    the     song    of    a    single    singer 
thus :  ,-£ ~==r==m/'/':\   The   crepitations   are   not  so 


loud    I  fry    -'tfj    *       | ;  I  as   those    of   the   Acris,    nor 


12        FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

have  they  the  same  ringing,  sleigh-bell  quality.  The 
tone  is  also  of  a  much  lower  pitch,  and  it  very 
slightly  approaches  in  quality  the  bleating  tone  of  the 
tree  toad. 

According  to  Professor  Cope,  this  frog  is  com- 
mon in  Gloucester  County,  K.  J.,  and  Chester  Coun- 
ty, Pa. ;  but  since  the  time  in  which  he  wrote  (1889) 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  frog  has  found  his 
way  farther  to  the  northeast,  and  he  ought  to  be 
heard  now  in  Staten  Island  and  the  vicinity.  I  have 
certainly  heard  his  voice  in  the  pine  barrens  not  far 
from  Lakewood,  N.  J. 

I  can  not  sufficiently  emphasize  the  fact  that 
every  species  of  living  thing  has  its  own  particular 
voice.  When  once  we  have  heard  a  single  Picker- 
ing's Hyla,  we  have  heard  the  characteristic  voice  of 
that  species,  and  it  is  not  to  be  confused  for  one 
moment  with  that  of  any  other  species.  The  com- 
mon frog's  droning  note  can  not  be  mistaken  for  the 
rattling  note  of  the  Chorophilus,  or  the  ringing, 
jingling  note  of  the  Acris /  nor  is  the  quality*  of 
the  note  of  any  one  of  these  species  I  have  named 
like  that  of  the  bubbly-bleaty  note  of  the  tree  toad. 


*  This,  in  music,  we  call  "timbre."'  When  I  change  my  tenor 
voice  and  sing  a  falsetto  note,  and  thus  imitate  the  soprano  voice, 
I  have  altered  the  timbre  of  the  note ;  although  it  may  still  be  A, 
its  quality  is  no  longer  the  same. 


EARLY  VOICES  OF  SPRING.  13 

I  can  imitate  Hyla  picJceringii  by  shrilly  whistling 
E  slurred  to  F  in  the  highest  octave  on  the  piano ; 
I  need  a  bass  viol  to  imitate  the  bullfrog  (Eana 
catesbiana) ;  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know  how  to  copy 
the  tree  toad's  note,  unless  by  making  a  bleating 
sound  with  the  lips ;  I  must  have  a  rattle  whistle  to 
imitate  the  Acris ;  and  I  must  hum  one  note  and 
whistle  another  to  approximate  the  droning  note  of 
the  toad.  A  big  chorus  of  the  Hyla  and  Acris 
sounds  like  jingling  sleighbells;  a  medley  of  the 
larger  batrachians'  voices  is  like  the  "  tuning  up  "  of 
a  string  orchestra. 

Quite  nearly  related  to  the  genus  Chorophilus  is 
the  genus  Hyla*  one  species  of  which  (Hyla  picker- 
ingii)  I  have  already  noticed.  There  are  but  two 
other  Hyloe  whose  range  extends  north  of  North 
Carolina :  one  is  Hyla  versicolor  (of  the  same  range 
as  Hyla  piclceringii\  and  the  other  is  Hyla  ander- 


*  The  genus  Hyla  includes  fully  one  half  of  the  large  Hylidce, 
family,  which  seems  to  have  been  created  to  inhabit  the  leafy  part 
of  the  world — especially  the  tropical  part — for  the  special  purpose 
of  holding  in  check  the  prolific  insect  life  which  might  otherwise 
do  an  inestimable  amount  of  injury  to  vegetation.  It  is  the  case, 
therefore,  that  in  those  regions  where  vegetable  life  abounds  there 
is  a  proportional  increase  in  the  number  of  species.  I  question 
very  much  whether  one  could  conscientiously  kill  a  toad  or  a  frog 
who  had  a  full  knowledge  of  the  immense  number  of  insects  it 
devoured  within  a  year's  time,  and  the  extent  of  harm  that  these 
might  have  worked  on  vegetation. 


14        FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


sonii,  an  extremely  rare  frog  found  from  New  Jer- 
sey to  Georgia.  As  only  three  individuals  of  this 
last  species  had  been  found  up  to  1889,  we  must  pass 
it  as  an  unfamiliar  phase  of 
swamp  life,  and  turn  our 
attention  to  the  very  com- 
mon Hyla  versicolor. 

This  is  the  frog  fa- 
miliarly  known  as  the 
tree  toad,  which  inhabits 
every  hedgerow  and  tree- 
girt  marsh  throughout  the 
country.  Professor  Yerrill 
records  this  species  as  being 
found  at  Norway,  Me., 
which  is  considered  the  most  easterly  point  of  its 
range;  but  at  Campton,  N.  H.,  scarcely  sixty-three 
miles  west  of  Norway,  I  have  found  this  frog,  if  not 
common,  at  least  so  plentiful  that  I  have  heard  him 
sing  every  season  for  the  last  ten  years.  It  would 
seem  reasonable,  then,  to  move  his  easterly  limit  still 
farther  east  than  Norway.  Wherever  there  are 
woodlands  bordering  a  marsh  or  pond,  there  he  will 
be  sure  to  be  heard,  at  least  in  June;  and  I  have 
no  doubt  but  that  his  voice  may  be  a  familiar  one 
in  some  of  the  wooded  swamps  near  Portland. 

This  remarkable  tree  toad  has  a  compact,  squat- 


Tree  Toad  (Hyla  vesicolor). 


EARLY  VOICES  OF  SPRING.  15 

looking  figure,  the  outline  of  which  at  all  points 
might  easily  touch  the  circumference  of  a  circle. 
The  head  is  broader  than  it  is  long.  The  back  of 
the  creature  is  generally  ashen  gray,  with  strange 
blotches  of  green  here  and  there ;  but  we  must  not 
forget  that  he  can  change  color,  and  in  an  envi- 
ronment of  leaves  and  grass  he  is  decidedly  green. 
Again,  on  a  lichen -covered  log  he  is  quite  likely  to 
be  brown-gray,  and  on  the  rough  trunk  of  the  swamp 
maple  (Acer  rubrum)  an  uncompromising  brown. 
In  fact  he  possesses  the  power  of  metachrosis  (color 
change)  to  a  wonderful  degree ;  hence  his  specific 
title  versicolor.  This  change,  however,  is  not  accom- 
plished quickly.  His  back  is  covered  with  warty 
excrescences ;  beneath  his  body,  on  the  lighter  skin, 
are  distinct  granulations;  and  a  characteristic  loose 
fold  extending  across  the  chest  indicates  that  he  does 
not  "  fit  his  clothes." 

The  eggs  of  Hyla  versicolor  are  laid  in  small 
packets  on  blades  of  grass,  slender  sticks,  and  the 
stems  of  weeds,  in  shallow  pools.  All  through  the 
breeding  season,  in  May  or  June,  the  bleating  note 
of  this  frog  may  be  heard  after  the  sun  goes  down, 
in  different  parts  of  the  swamp,  one  voice  respond- 
ing to  another,  or  perhaps  both  mingling.  I  have 
counted  about  eight  notes  given  out  in  one  second 
and  a  half.  This  is  a  fair  average  utterance  of  one 


16       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

individual.  Intervals  of  about  four  seconds  and  a 
half  occur  with  indifferent  regularity.  One  can  not 
quite  depend  on  the  tree  toad  for  synchronous 
effect ;  it  is  a  sort  of  go-as-you-please  musical  con- 
versation which  he  keeps  up,  very  often  confused 
by  two  or  three  speaking  at  the  same  time  ;  but  the 
winning  little  voices  are  pleasing  and  entertaining, 
and  the  "  word  "  that  is  passed  around  is  reassuring. 

There  are  rarely  more  than  three  or  four  of  these 
frogs  congregated  in  one  spot,  and  it  may  often  be 
quite  a  distance  to  the  next  assembly.  The  voices 
are  strung  along  in  the  dusk  of  evening  somewhat 
thus : 


By  the  time  No.  4  begins  No.  1  breaks  in  again, 
and  we  have  a  duet  ;  then  comes  No.  2  alone  ; 
then  No.  3  accompanied  by  No.  4 ;  and  presently,  in 
the  irregularity  of  the  succession,  we  have  a  trio. 
Imagine  a  few  tiny  lambs  bleating  thus  :  "  Tur-r-r-r-t, 
Tre-t-t-t-t,"  and  the  simile  is  as  complete  as  I  can 
make  it.  Later  in  the  season  these  voices  come  from 
the  hedges  and  the  orchards ;  the  frogs  have  left  their 
aquatic  retreats.  A  Mr.  Geismar,  who  kept  several 
in  his  vivarium,  has  recorded  a  remarkable  instance 
of  their  domestication.  Both  window  and  vivarium 


EARLY  VOICES  OF  SPRING. 


17 


The 


being  left    open   during  part   of   the  day  the   frogs 

would  leave  the   house   and  establish  themselves  on 

the    trees   in   the  orchard,  where    their 

voices   could    be   heard  throughout  the 

evening.      During  the  night  they  would 

return  to   the  house,  and  would  appear 

in  their  usual  places  in  the  morning. 

Hyla  versicolor  is  not  only  remark- 
able for  his  change  of  color  and  his 
winning  voice,  but  also  for  his  "foot  «f00t-pads"  of 
pads,"  my  drawing  of  which  will  show  the  Tree  Toad- 
their  high  development.  Not- 
ing these  strange  little 
disks  on  the  tips 
of  the  toes,  which 
closely  adhere  to 
the  surface  on 
which  the  crea- 
ture stands,  the 
fact  will  not  ap- 
pear so  surprising 
that  he  can  stand  near- 
ly upside  down  !  It  is 

Common  Toad  j>      ,  i  -i    •  r 

perfectly   plain,   too,   by 

the   webbed   feet,  that   the   little   acrobat  is  a  fair 
swimmer. 

Last,  but  by  no  means  least  among  the  batrachian 
3 


18        FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

singers  of  spring,  comes  the  common  toad  (Bufo 
americanus).  The  poor,  brown,  warty  creature 
which  is  so  repulsive  in  appearance,  and  which  one 
shudders  to  touch,  possesses  one  of  the  sweetest 
voices  of  spring — a  dreamy,  lulling,  musical  voice, 
well  fitted  to  sing  the  slumber  song  of  Nature,  and 
transport  every  living  thing  in  woodland  and  mead- 
ow to  the  mysterious  land  of  dreams.  The  birds,  it 
is  true,  may  be  thus  sung  to  sleep,  but  not  so  with  all 
the  rest  of  the  animal  creation ;  most  of  it  delights 
to  prowl  about  all  night  long,  just  as  Robert  Louis 
Stevenson  says,  and  none  of  it  cares  a  straw  for  an 
accompanying  nocturne : 

"  The  squalling  cat  and  the  squeaking1  mouse, 
The  howling  dog  by  the  door  of  the  house, 
The  bat  that  lies  in  bed  at  noon, 
All  love  to  be  out  by  the  light  of  the  moon." 

By  moonlight  the  song  of  the  toad  seems  even 
more  entrancing ;  but  cat  and  weasel,  coon  and 
skunk,  fox  and  bat — all  are  intent  on  prey,  and  our 
lullaby  singers  make  some  of  it. 

Every  dweller  in  the  country  is  familiar  with  the 
voice  of  Bufo  americanus.  In  the  breeding  season, 
from  April  to  June,  the  toad  resorts  to  the  swampy 
parts  of  the  meadow,  and  there  winds  his  horn  for 
the  delectation  of  his  mate.  The  sound  is  a  some- 


3§ 


EARLY   VOICES  OF  SPRING.  19 

what  cricketlike  but  prolonged  "  Wur-r-r-r-r-r," 
which  can  be  closely  imitated  by  humming  and  soft- 
ly whistling  the  following  notes  together : 
In  a  large  congregation  of  toads  the  i  V  ' 
chorus,  by  no  means  shrill  or  noisy,  is 
remarkable  for  its  effect  of  harmony. 
Although  the  note  is  sustained,  it  is 
broken  by  exceedingly  rapid  crepitations  which  it  is 
impossible  for  the  ear  to  follow.  The  "  locust," 
which,  years  ago,  boys  used  to  construct  from  a 
soda-bottle  neck,  a  piece  of  kid  glove,  a  woven  bit 
of  horsehair,  and  a  stick,  produced  a  very  similar  but 
less  musical  sound.  In  singing,  the  toad  swells  his 
throat  to  a  whitish,  bubblelike  form,  which  collapses 
when  the  sound  ceases  ;  then  after  two  or  three 
movements  of  the  lips,  as  though  to  pucker  them 
for  another  effort,  he  swells  up  again,  and  continues 
for  the  space  of  about  seven  seconds  more.  He  re- 
peats this  performance  an  indefinite  number  of  times, 
and  finally,  upon  a  slight  and  sudden  movement  of 
the  observer,  disappears  among  the  weeds  on  the 
border  of  the  pond.  So  much  for  his  "  Liebeslied." 

In  some  secluded  part  of  the  pond  the  female  de- 
posits the  eggs,  which  are  inclosed  in  a  long,  thick- 
walled  tube  of  transparent  albumen,  in  the  water. 
These  tubes  lie  in  long  spiral  strings  on  the  bottom, 
and  the  dark-colored  young  hatch  out  quite  early. 


20        FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

Finally,  after  the  consummation  of  the  metamorpho- 
sis, they  appear  in  a  completed  form  (tinier  than  that 
of  the  Hylce  at  the  same  age)  along  the  margin  of 
the  water — veritable  pygmy  toads. 

In  midsummer  the  toad  takes  up  his  abode  under 
one's  doorstep,  and  issues  forth  in  the  early  evening 
to  secure  his  insect  food.  I  have  a  great  admiration 
for  a  certain  big  fellow  who  frequents  my  garden 
during  the  night  season  and  makes  way  with  an  im- 
mense number  of  insects.  He  is  not  disturbed  by 
my  presence  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  when  I  water 
the  flowers,  and  hops  about  in  and  out  among  the 
poppies  and  nasturtiums  with  full  confidence  that  his 
presence  there  is  welcome.  I  know  exactly  where 
his  home  is  (under  the  front  steps)  and  can  tell  pretty 
nearly  at  what  time  he  will  sally  out  in  the  gloaming. 
He  is  undoubtedly  a  creature  of  systematic  habits, 
and  possesses  but  one  fault:  he  strays  beyond  the 
garden  limits,  and  establishes  himself  about  10  p.  M. 
on  the  plank  walk  outside.  Here  he  is  in  constant 
danger  of  being  stepped  upon  with  others  of  his  kind 
who  will  not  stay  in  the  grass. 

If  one  has  not  an  unconquerable  aversion  to  toads 
it  is  worth  while  to  corner  a  big  fellow  and  scratch 
him  on  the  back.  If  he  is  scratched  on  the  right 
side  he  will  lean  over  that  way,  just  as  a  cat  does 
whose  cheek  is  rubbed  ;  if  scratched  on  the  left  side 


EARLY   VOICES  OF  SPRING.  21 

he  leans  to  the  left ;  if  scratched  on  both  sides  he 
squats  with  content,  and,  I  imagine,  an  expression 
of  satisfaction  settles  in  his  fishy  eye. 

I  do  not  suppose  a  toad  has  any  parasite  to  bite 
his  tough,  warty  back ;  the  frog,  though,  does  unfor- 
tunately have  a  certain  low  parasitic  form  of  life 
which  inhabits  his  blood.*  About  every  creature 
in  the  world,  however,  is  likely  to  furnish  another 
smaller  world  for  yet  smaller  creatures  to  live  in,  and 
the  frog  is  no  exception  to  the  rule.  There  is  more 
truth  than  nonsense  in  the  suggestive  doggerel  that 
runs: 

"  Little  fleas  have  lesser  fleas  upon  their  backs  to  bite  'em, 
And  these  fleas  have  lesser  fleas,  ad  infinitum. 
Great  fleas  have  greater  fleas  upon  their  backs  to  go  on, 
And  these  fleas  have  greater  fleas  and  greater  fleas,  and 

so  on ! " 

*  There  have  been  certain  sausagelike  parasites  discovered  in 
the  blood  of  Rana  esculenta.  Dr.  Gaule  found  in  this  frog's  red 
blood-corpuscles,  mobile  corpuscles,  elongate,  and  pointed  at  the 
extremities.  These  issued  from  the  cells,  which  they  could  drag 
after  them  for  some  time,  but  after  a  while  became  motionless,  and 
finally  died  and  disappeared. 


CHAPTEK  II. 

THE  CROAKERS. 
Familiar  Members  of  the  Tribe  Rana. 

WE  have  already  considered  the  soloists  of  the 
batrachian  orchestra,  and  now  the  musicians  who 
represent  the  'cello  and  the  bass  viol  must  engage 
our  notice.  A  hundred  croaking  voices  reach  our 
ears  from  the  vicinity  of  the  frog  pond,  and  many  of 
them  possess  a  distinct  individuality.  The  "  croaks  " 
are  not  all  alike :  there  is  the  basso  prof  undo  of  the 
bullfrog,  the  barytone  of  the  green  frog,  and  several 
other  strange  tones  of  still  stranger  batrachians,  all 
of  which  are  easily  distinguished  apart. 

The  genus  Rana*  to  which  these  croakers  be- 
long, is  an  extensive  division  of  the  large  family 
Ranidce.  It  includes  no  less  than  one  hundred  and 

*  The  frogs  belonging  to  the  genus  Rana  are  well  protected 
from  their  enemies  by  an  extremely  acrid  secretion  of  the  skin. 
Cats  and  dogs  avoid  them  as  a  rule,  not,  however,  without  excep- 
tions ;  but  snakes  appear  to  differ  in  their  tastes,  and  the  great 
number  of  frogs  they  swallow  in  the  springtime  is  beyond  calcu- 
lation.— Cope. 
22 


THE  CROAKERS.  23 

eight  species,  according  to  Mr.  Boulanger,  but  of 
these  only  six  are  common  enough  in  our  northeast- 
ern States  to  attract  our  notice.  These  are  : 

1.  Rana  virescens  virescens ,  the  leopard  frog;  a 
subspecies  of  Rana  virescens  (Rana  halecina,  of  other 
authors),  a  bright-green  frog  found  along  our  seacoast 
and  the  adjacent  country. 

2.  Rana  palustris,  a  light- brown  frog  found  in 
cold  springs  and  streamlets. 

3.  Rana    septentrionalis,    a    round -spotted    frog 
found  in  northern  New  York  and  the  northwest. 

4.  Rana  clamata,  the  green  frog,  common  every- 
where. 

5.  Rana  catesbiana,  the  bullfrog,  the  largest  spe- 
cies of  all,  also  common. 

6.  Rana  sylvatica,  the  wood  frog,  common  every- 
where in  our  woodlands. 

The  prettiest  fellow  of  them  all  is 
the  leopard  frog,    Rana   virescens 
virescens^  about  two  and  a 
half   inches   long.      A 
bright     copper  -  col- 
ored line  begins  at 
his  nose   and  ends 

at   his  eye ;  a  sec-         1^R«^&1P^-  * 
ond  line  of  yellow- 

Leopard  Frog 
ish     white     reaches  (Rana  virescens  virescens). 


24:       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

from  the  nose  to  the  shoulder.  The  eyes  are  large 
and  prominent,  the  nose  is  pointed,  and  the  general 
color  of  the  body  above  is  yellowish  green  marked 
with  oval  spots  of  olive  margined  with  bright  yellow. 
These  spots  are  arranged  in  two  rows  on  the  back, 
and  in  two  others  less  distinct  on  the  sides.  Under- 
neath, the  body  is  silver-white  at  the  mouth  and  yel- 
low-white at  the  abdomen.  There  is  a  characteristic 
longitudinal  band  on  the  front  of  the  thigh. 

This  species  is  found  in  great  numbers  in  the 
swamps  that  border  the  creeks  and  rivers  of  the  At- 
lantic coast ;  but  inland,  except  in  the  Mississippi 
Valley,  it  is  rather  rare.  According  to  Professor 
Cope,  with  the  Acris  gryllus  it  is  the  first  species 
heard  in  spring,  and  although  a  single  voice  is  not 
loud,  the  noise  produced  by  thousands  of  them  close 
at  hand  is  deafening,  and  can  be  heard  many  miles 
away.  This  frog  "  clucks  "  almost  exactly  like  a  hen, 
and  in  about  the  same  key ;  j=72 
but  the  noise  of  a  large  [*)'.  f-  f_  f-  f-  f-  M 
number  sounds  more  like  a 

number  of  ducks  quacking,  but  not  without  a  de- 
cidedly musical  ring.  I  can  not,  of  course,  indicate 
what  difference  there  may  be  between  the  voices  of 
the  species  proper  (Rana  virescens  or  Rana  halecina) 
and  this  subspecies,  but  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that 
there  is  none. 


THE  CROAKERS. 


25 


Rana  palustris  is  a  frog  of  the  same  size  as 
Rana  virescens  virescens,  but  of  entirely  different 
color  and  tune.  His  voice  is  hoarse,  and  his  note  is  a 
long,  low  croak,  resembling,  as  Professor  Cope  says, 
the  tearing  of  some  coarse  material ;  I  should  suggest 
burlap,  and  add  that  the  tone  is  anywhere  i  ^y  \ 
from  F  to  A  below  middle  C  on  the  piano.  ^ 


This  frog  lives  around  cold  streams  and  springs, 
and  is  very  commonly  seen  in  the  grass.     In  habit 
he  is  not  gregarious  like  Rana  virescens 
virescens,  but  on  the  contrary  is  rather 
solitary.     He  is  the  most  abun- 
dant frog  in  the  Alleghany 
Mountains,  but  is  com- 
mon throughout  all 
the  States  east  of 
the        Mississippi 
River.     In  agility 
he  is  only  excelled 
by  the  wood  frog 
(Rana  sylvatica), 

which  he  slightly  resembles  in  point  of  color,  lacking, 
however,  the  dash  of  black  behind  the  eye.  With 
one  long,  graceful  leap  this  athletic  batrachian  covers 
the  ground  with  the  ease  of  a  deer,  and  leaves  his 
pursuer  far  in  the  rear.  He  has  rather  a  disagree- 
able odor. 


Brown  Frog 
(Rana  palustris). 


26       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

The  nose  of  this  species  is  more  obtuse  than  that 
of  Rana  virescens  virescens,  and  the  general  color  of 
the  back  is  light  brown,  well  covered  with  oblong 
spots  of  dark  brown  regularly  arranged  on  either 
side.  Between  these  spots  and  another  similar  series 
lower  down  on  the  side  is  a  bright  yel- 
low line.  The  wood  frog's  color  is 
generally  tan  brown,  but  he  is 
without  conspicuous  spots. 
The  northern  frog 
(Rana  septentrionalis), 
which  is  the  least 
familiar  one  of  my 
group,  is  distin- 
guished for  its  dis- 
agreeable odor.  It 
has  a  somewhat  broad, 
stout  body,  a  narrow 
head,  and  a  rough  but 

not  tuberculated  skin.  The  color  above  is  light 
olive,  covered  on  the  lower  half  of  the  back  with 
large,  nearly  circular  blotches  of  brown.  The  legs 
have  a  few  blotches,  but  no  bands.  Beneath,  the 
color  is  a  uniform  dull  whitish  yellow.  Compared 
with  Rana  clamata*  the  species  next  described,  this 

*  Vide  Batrachia  of  North  America.    E.  D.  Cope. 


THE  CROAKERS. 


27 


frog  has  a  browner  color,  larger  eyes,  longer  fingers, 
and  longer  but  less  webbed  feet.  According  to  Pro- 
fessor Cope,  the  variations  of  Rana  septentrionalis 
are  greater  than  those  of  any  other  North  American 
species  of  this  genus. 

The  northern  frog  is  about  two  inches  long  in 
maturity,  and  is  found  only  in  the  north  country 
from  Garrison's  Creek,  near  Sackett's  Harbor  (Lake 
Ontario),  N.  Y.,  northward  to  Canada,  and  westward 
to  Minnesota. 

Dr.  J.  H.  Gamier,  who  has  given  a  detailed  ac- 
count of  the  habits  of  this  species  as  observed  by 
him   at   Lucknow,   Ontario,  says  it  pos- 
sesses the  odor  of  the  mink,  and  is 
particularly    offensive    on 
being  handled.     It  is 
a  thoroughly  aquat- 
ic  species,    which 
seeks  its  food — 
insects  and  small 
fishes  —  in     the 
water    only.      I 
know       nothing 
of  its  voice. 

The  green  frog  (Rana  damata) — or  the  noisy 
frog,  as  his  Latin  specific  title  would  seem  to  sug- 
gest (a  very  common  batrachian,  about  three  inches 


Green  Frog  (Rana  clamata). 


28       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

long) — is  the  one  whose  familiar  nasal  "  gum-m-m  " 
or  "  chun-n-ng"  is  heard  in  every  pool  and  frog  pond 
from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other.  He  gen- 
erally waits  on  the  margin  until  we  approach  within 
a  yard  of  his  retreat,  and  then  slumps  into  the  pool 
with  a  short  and  derisive  "  g-m-m  "  in  C,  one  octave 
below  middle  C  on  the  piano,  thus :  |fyr,|  _,-)  _^\  \ 
Often  the  note  will  be  as  high  as  E ;  |';  ^  ~^  "B 
but  in  any  event  it  is  not  a  noisy  voice  which  one 
hears,  and  the  Latin  name  seems  entirely  misapplied, 
more  particularly  as  these  frogs  do  not  congregate  in 
large  and  clamorous  assemblies  like  Hyla  pickeringii 
or  Rana  virescens  virescens.  On  the  contrary,  Rana 
clamata  lives  alone  or  with  one  or  more  companions. 
We  will  frequently  see  him  seated  on  a  lily  pad  or 
on  the  shaded  margin  of  the  pond,  where  he  occa- 
sionally makes  a  gulping  answer  to  a  fellow  frog  over 
on  the  other  side. 

In  form  Rana  clamata  is  rather  stout,  with  a 
head  longer  than  it  is  broad,  and  very  large  ear 
drums.  The  hind  feet  are  strongly  webbed,  and  the 
skin  of  the  back  is  more  or  less  rough.  In  color  the 
frog  is  decidedly  green,  the  upper  parts  quite  bright 
and  the  lower  parts  deepening  to  a  dull  olive  hue. 
Beneath,  the  coloring  is  dull  white  merging  into  yel- 
low under  the  chin ;  the  hind  legs  are  marked  with 
three  or  four  transverse  dark  bands. 


THE  CROAKERS. 


29 


The  next  nearest  relative  of  Eana  clamata  is  the 
bullfrog   (Eana  catesUand),  the   largest  of  all  the 
American  species ;  he  frequently  measures  four  and 
a  half  inches  from  the  nose  to  the  end  of  the  body. 
He  is  the  bass  viol  of  the  batrachian 
orchestra,  and  the  king  of  all  the 
croaking  tribe   of  Eana,  but 
also  a  sort  of  canni- 
bal into  the  bar- 
ain,    for    he 
is  known  to 
feast  on  his 
own    tad- 
pole prog- 
eny.       But 
this   is    a    bad 
habit  not  wholly 
confined  to  the 

big  Hana  catesbiana.  Any  one  who  has  fished  for 
frogs  with  a  bit  of  red  worsted  tied  to  a  fishhook 
knows  how  the  gaping,  wide-mouthed  creatures  will 
snap  at  anything  that  comes  along  without  discrim- 
ination ;  in  fact,  a  tadpole  for  bait  will  do  almost  as 
well  as  a  bit  of  red  worsted.  Apropos  of  this  fact, 
Dr.  Abbott's  remarks  about  the  voracity  of  frogs  are 
well  worth  repeating : 

*'  While  feeding  an  Anderson's  Hyla  with  flies  a 


The  Bullfrog  (Eana  catesbiana). 


30       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

few  days  ago,  which  it  takes  from  my  fingers,  I  was 
startled  by  the  on-rush  of  a  little  wood  frog,  which, 
impatient  for  its  own  dinner,  seriously  attempted  to 
swallow  both  the  tree  toad  and  my  fingers  at  one 
mighty  gulp.  .  .  .  With  widely  gaping  jaws,  which 
were  distended  before  the  leap  was  made,  the  frog  at- 
tempted to  scoop  up  the  toad  and  swallow  it,  or  get 
such  a  hold  as  would  make  subsequent  swallowing 
an  easy  task;  and  yet  the  difference  in  size  of  the 
two  creatures  was  very  little.  As  for  the  tree  toad, 
it  took  the  whole  proceeding  as  a  matter  of  course, 
not  moving  a  muscle  even  when  such  great  danger 
was  apparently  imminent.  The  whole  tribe  of  tail- 
less batrachians  is  much  alike  in  this  respect,  seem- 
ingly taking  it  for  granted  that  they  were  born  to  be 
eaten,  and  stuff  themselves  until  fate  wills  it  that 
they  go  to  stuff  others.  ...  I  have  seen  little  fellows 
just  from  the  tadpole  state  in  dangerous  proximity 
to  patriarchal  bullfrogs,  which  were  then  only  wait- 
ing for  their  appetites  to  return  to  swallow  a  half 
dozen  of  their  own  grandchildren  !  " 

Rana  catesbiana  is  much  less  green  than  Rana 
clamata  •  the  color  of  the  back  is  dull  olive,  some- 
times marked  with  darker  blotches  or  bands,  the 
positions  of  which  are  not  always  the  same.  The 
head  is  usually  yellowish  olive-green,  and  the  lower 
part  of  the  body  much  darker.  Beneath,  the  crea- 


THE    BULLFROG. 
RANA    CATESBIANA. 

"  Tuneful  scrapings  on  a 
moonlight  night." 


THE  CROAKERS.  31 

ture  is  yellowish  white,  much  deeper  in  tone  under 
the  chin.  In  different  localities  the  frog  is  differ- 
ently marked,  and  it  is  therefore  impossible  to  define 
any  standard  of  color  whereby  the  species  may  be 
identified.  The  head  is  as  broad  as  it  is  long,  and 
the  hind  feet  are  widely  webbed.  A  characteristic 
mark  of  this  species  is  the  fold  in  the  skin,  which 
begins  behind  the  eye,  curves  over  the  dark  round 
spot  which  is  really  the  ear.  and  descends  to  a  point 
below  the  lower  jaw,  losing  itself  in  the  yellow  skin 
under  the  arm  on  the  breast.  This  is  the  only  fold 
of  skin  on  the  frog,  and  it  is  inconspicuous  beyond 
the  ear ;  but  a  sharp  eye  may  easily  detect  its  course 
beyond  that  point. 

Every  one  knows  the  bullfrog's  note ;  and  that 
his  hoarse  voice  in  the  distance,  so  nearly  resembling 
the  roar  of  a  bull,  should  have  occasioned  his  name, 
goes  without  saying.  Still,  as  I  have  remarked  be- 
fore, there  is  a  musical  tone  to  nearly  every  sound  in 
Nature's  world,  and  our  bullfrog  is  not  an  exception 
to  the  rule.  He  is  the  double  bass  of  the  midsum- 
mer orchestra,  and  no  stretch  of  the  imagination  is 
required  to  hear  his  tuneful  scrapings  on  a  moonlight 
night  ranging  through  the  following  chords : 


Ru.mJuQd  rum:     Ju$°'  rum:  more  rum-o' rum  more  rum  dram. 


32       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN   FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

There  are  often  as  many  discords  as  there  are  har- 
monies, I  will  admit ;  but  there,  again,  is  Nature's 
suggestiveness.  She  simply  suggests  the  harmony, 
and  we  assimilate  it ;  a  little  imagination  does  the 
rest,  and  "  jug  o'  rum,  jug  o'  rum,  more  rum,  more 
rum  "  is  quite  a  justifiable  simile,  although  it  reflects 
on  the  character  of  the  woodsman  more  than  it  does 
on  that  of  the  batrachian.  There  is  a  humorous  fit- 
ting of  tones  to  syllables  often  scraped  on  the  bass 
viol  during  an  intermission  of  the  string  orchestra,  run- 
ning thus :  _Q v  Hum  those  tones  to 

a  musician 


Q 

Iflr  /_^V  ^    *   J4     and  his  response  is 

•^  \A/ls^K'll       ..-..    U*../>    I-*        y4.'.MbO 


•i          /»  Whdt'll  vouhaveto  drink?  •,•  ,1 

a  smile  of  •  recognition  ;  they 

suggest  but  one  idea  to  the  German  mind — beer. 
I  am  inclined  to  think  the  American  woodsman  is 
responsible  for  the  suggestive  syllables  connected 
with  the  bullfrog's  sonorous  croak. 

The  bullfrog  prefers  the  larger  bodies  of  water, 
especially  where  these  are  surrounded  by  evergreen 
forests,  and  he  haunts  the  shores  where  thickets  and 
underbrush  make  his  home  inaccessible.  The  voice  is 
not  heard  until  the  arrival  of  warm  weather,  and  it 
continues  through  every  evening  during  the  sum- 
mer ;  it  may  occasionally  be  heard  for  a  distance  of 
two  miles. 

Dr.  Gamier  points  out  certain  similar  charac- 
teristics of  the  three  species,  R(ma  septentrio- 


THE  CROAKERS. 


33 


nalis,  Rana  clamata,  and  Rana  catesbiana,  which  I 
copy: 

1.  They  have  no  chant  d' amour  in  spring. 

2.  They  retire  early  to  hibernate  with  the  first 
autumnal  frost. 

3.  They  live  in  the  water  and  lie  in  wait  for  their 
food,  never  hunting  for  it  on  land. 

4.  They  poise  the  body  on  floating  weeds,  or  sit 
on  the  bank,  or  on  any  bit  of  stick  or  log  that  suits 
their  purpose. 

5.  Their  tadpoles  require  two  years  in  which  to 
mature. 

6.  Their    notes   are    produced    by   inflating    the 
throat  pouch  and  suddenly  expelling  the  air ;  where- 
as in  Rana  mrescens,  etc., 

there  is  a  pouch  on  either 
side  near  the  angle  of 
the  jaws. 

Y.  They  are  all 
tinged  with  yellow- 
ish green  under  the 
chin. 

The  wood  frog 
(Rana  sylvatica}  is 
a  distinctly  sylvan 
character,  he  is  frequently  found  among  the  dead 

and  moist  leaves  on  the  border  of  the  brook  which 
4 


Wood  Frog  (Rana  sylvatica). 


34:       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

finds  its  way  among  the  ferny  hollows  of  the  hillside 
forest.  This  frog  is  susceptible  to  the  color  of  his 
surroundings,  and  changes  from  the  tan  color  of  a 
dead  leaf  to  the  green  of  a  living  one  with  consider- 
able ease.  In  general  his  color  is  tan  brown,  and 
his  characteristic  mark  is  a  blackish  patch  extend- 
ing from  behind  the  eye  to  a  point  just  over  the 
shoulder.  Often  his  back  will  be  strong  buffish  gray, 
with  a  tinging  of  brown  on  either  side.  There  are 
three  or  four  transverse  dark  bands  across  the  thighs, 
and  a  few  scattered  black  spots  will  be  found  on  the 
sides. 

The  nose  of  this  species  is  rather  pointed,  and  the 
limbs  are  long  and  slender,  with  the  hind  feet  well 
webbed.  The  frog  is  therefore  a  good  swimmer  ; 
but  as  a  leaper  he  holds  the  record.  When  one 
spies  a  dull  brown,  slender-legged  frog  among  the 
leaves  around  a  woodland  spring,  or  even  in  the  re- 
cesses of  the  forest  where  there  is  no  water  near,  and 
this  frog  takes  a  flying  leap,  disappearing  entirely— 
perhaps  landing  somewhere  in  the  next  county  —  one 
may  be  pretty  sure  that  it  is  none  other  than  Rana 
sylvatica. 

In  early  April  we  may  hear  the  spasmodic 
and  hoarse  •  f  y  ]  ^  croak  of  the  wood  frog 


near      the  \     {        pond,  to  which  he  resorts 

in  the  short  breeding  season  ;  but  in  the  summer  he 


THE  CROAKERS.  35 

takes  to  the  woods  again,  and  remains  there  for  the 
rest  of  the  year.  His  voice  is  pitched  about  an 
octave  below  middle  C,  and  it  is  really  not  often 
heard  after  May  ;  in  fact,  this  frog  is  the  most  silent 
one  of  the  genus  Rana,. 


CHAPTEE  III. 

SONGLESS  BATRACHIANS. 
The  Salamanders. 

AFTER  leaving  the  clamorous  frogs,  one  experi- 
ences a  sense  of  relief  in  coming  to  the  voiceless 
salamander — lizard  as  he  is  wrongly  called.  Now 
the  lizard  and  the  salamander  belong  to  two  separate 
families  of  widely  different  character.  The  lizard  is 
covered  with  imbricated  or  granular  scales ;  he  is  the 
small  relation  of  the  alligator.  The  salamander  is 
smooth-skinned ;  he  is  the  elongated  relation  of  the 
frog.  The  lizard  is  a  saurian  reptile,  the  principal 
characteristics  of  which  are  the  scales,  the  claws  to 
the  toes,  the  undilated  mouth,  the  toothed  jaws,  and 
the  eggs  with  a  hard  shell  or  skin,  the  young  from 
which  do  not  undergo  a  metamorphosis.  The  sala- 
mander is  a  batrachian,  with  a  skin  as  smooth  as  a 
catfish,  toes  without  claws,  dilated  mouth,  and  young 
which  are  metamorphosed. 

The  salamander  was  credited  with  the  most  re- 
markable attributes  in  days  of  old.  His  bite  was 
36 


SONGLESS  BATRACHIANS.  3? 

considered  fatal,  and  anything  which  his  saliva 
touched  was  said  to  become  poisonous.  But  the 
principal  absurdity  connected  with  this  generally 
aquatic  creature  was  that  he  could  resist  fire — in  fact, 
could  extinguish  it.  Bacon  says :  "  There  is  an  an- 
cient received  tradition  of  the  salamander  that  it  liv- 
eth  in  fire,  and  hath  force  also  to  extinguish  the  fire." 
And  Shakespeare  makes  Falstaff  say :  "  I  have  main- 
tained that  salamander  of  yours  with  fire  any  time 
this  two  and  thirty  years ;  God  reward  me  for  it ! " 
Even  in  colonial  times  a  superstitious  connection  of 
salamanders  with  the  fire  on  the  kitchen  hearth  was 
rife  in  the  minds  of  simple  folk,  and  old  dying  em- 
bers were  said  to  breed  them. 

But  between  fire  and  water  the  salamander  chooses 
the  latter ;  and  although  some  of  the  species  are  ter- 
restrial in  habit,  many  of  them  are  decidedly  aquatic 
— our  little  red  salamander,  for  instance.  Most  of 
the  "lizards,"  however,  are  found  under  the  stones 
on  the  margin  of  the  brook  or  the  ditch ;  but  not  a 
few  hide  among  the  damp,  withered  leaves  of  the 
forest  floor. 

One  of  the  common  batrachians  of  the  West  is 
named  Necturus  maculatus — the  spotted  Necturus. 
His  back  is  crowded  with  whitish  specks,  which  re- 
duce the  general  brown  color  to  a  pattern  in  fine 
lines.  Along  the  back  are  also  arranged  superior 


38       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


rows  of  dark  brown  spots.  The  branchial  (gilled) 
formations  of  this  strange  creature  are  very  conspicu- 
ous, the  head  and  muzzle  are  flat, 
the  body  is  proportionally  short, 
and  there  are  but  four 
toes  to  each  foot. 


Spotted  Necturus  (Necturus  maculatus). 


He  is  entirely 
aquatic. 

That  still  stranger-looking  creature,  common  on 
the  bottoms  of  rivers  in  Ohio,  called  the  hellbender 
( Cryptobranchus 
allegheniensis, 
Cope*), 


The  Hellbender 
(Cryptobranchus  allegheniensis). 


is  horrible  in  name 
only,  but  yet  far  from 
being  agreeable  in  ap- 
pearance. He  is  a  rep- 
tile, every  inch.  The 

head  is  flat  and  broad,  the  tail  is  half  as  long  as 
the  head  and  body  together,  the  mouth  is  wide,  and 
the  legs  are  short,  with  an  extensive  fold  of  skin 


*  Also  called  Protonopsis  horridus. 


SONGLESS  BATRACHIANS.  39 

between  the  armpit  and  the  extremity  of  the  outer 
"finger." 

This  harmless  reptile  is  a  pale  leaden  color  with 
indistinct  brown  spots  on  the  back.  Both  this  and 
the  preceding  species  have  a  more  eellike  than  lizard- 
like  appearance.  They  are  about  a  foot  long. 

The  hellbender  is  distributed  from  western  New 
York   to   Georgia  and   Louisiana,  and   westward   to 
Iowa.     He  is  entirely  aquatic  in  his  habits,  and  is 
frequently  "  hooked  "  by  fishermen  on  the 
Ohio  River. 

A  more  lizardlike  and  attractive  crea- 
ture than  the  hellbender  is  the  salaman- 
der named  Amblystomob  punctatum,  dis- 
tinguished  for   a  smooth 
skin  pitted 
with  pores 
which    are 
most  numerous 

Violet  Salamander  (Amblystoma  punctatum). 

about  the  tail, 

and  for  the  milky  juice  which  exudes  from  the  darker 
colored  portions  of  it.  The  general  color  of  this  sala- 
mander is  leaden  black,  and  on  each  side  of  the  back 
are  a  series  of  circular,  or  nearly  circular,  regularly 
arranged  yellow  spots  about  as  large  as  the  eye.  On 
the  sides,  and  beneath,  are  some  scattered  specks 
of  bluish  white  on  a  lighter  leaden-colored  ground, 


40       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


which  impart  a  somewhat  plum-colored  hue  to  the 
creature. 

The  eggs  of  this  species  are  surrounded  by  large 
masses  of  albuminous  matter,  which  are  deposited  in 
pools,  ditches,  and  streamlets.  Upon  a  closer  exami- 
nation these  masses  will  be  found  to  consist  of  a  num- 
ber of  hollow  spheres  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch  in 
diameter,  connected  together  by  a  transparent  jelly. 
"Within  each  sphere  is  the  embryo  of  a  young  sala- 
mander. In  due  season  the  half-developed,  fishlike 
creature,  freed  from  the  gelatinous  envelope,  com- 
pletes its  growth  in  the  quiet  water,  and  finally  de- 
velops four  legs,  which  sprout  from  the  body  and  ter- 


minate   first    with    three, 
finally  five  toes. 


then  four,  and 
This  salaman- 
der is  common 
from  New  York 
westward  and  south- 
ward. The  length 
of  an  average  specimen  at 
maturity  is  about  six  inches. 
Another  closely  allied 
species  is  the  Amblystoma 
tigrinum,  sometimes  ten  inches  in  length,  but  gener- 
ally not  more  than  seven.  The  color  of  this  species 
is  leaden  black  of  a  brownish  tone ;  on  the  upper 
parts,  generally  on  the  sides  of  the  tail  and  limbs,  are 


Tiger-spotted  Salamander 
(Amblystoma  tigrinum). 


SONGLESS  BATRACHIANS.  41 

sharply  defined  yellow  spots  about  the  size  of  the 
eye,  less  symmetrically  arranged  than  those  of  Am- 
blystoma  punctatum  •  beneath,  the  dull  white  color  is 
sometimes,  but  not  always,  blotched  with  yellow.  The 
head  is  proportionally  small,  the  body  thick  and  wide, 
and  the  legs  stout  and  short. 

The  young  of  this  species  are  said  to  be  very 
abundant  in  all  still  water  in  the  far  West.  They 
are  exceedingly  voracious  and  bite  at  the  hook  read- 
ily. Late  in  the  summer  they  complete  their  meta- 
morphoses and  take  to  the  land,  where  they  hide  in 
the  holes  of  woodchucks,  badgers,  etc.  Professor 
Cope  describes  a  captive  salamander  of  this  species 
(it  came  from  New  Jersey)  which  occupied  a  burrow 
in  the  soil  of  his  fernery  for  several  weeks.  The 
burrow  had  two  openings,  and  from  one  of  these  the 
head  of  the  creature  could  usually  be  seen,  with 
the  little  eyes  intently  watching  what  was  going  on 
in  the  outer  world.  I  had  two  such  salamanders  in 
captivity  in  my  own  fernery  for  about  a  year.  They 
became  perfectly  tame,  and  ate  from  my  hand.  It 
was  amusing  to  watch  the  little  heads  deliberately 
turn  for  a  better  view  of  some  interesting  object. 

Amblystoma  tigrinum  is  common  from  southern 
New  York  southward  and  westward,  and  is  especially 
abundant  near  Beasley's  Point,  between  Cape  May 
and  Atlantic  City,  K.  J.  A  specimen  is  even  re- 


42       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

corded  from  Ottawa,  so  it  is  apparent  that  its  geo- 
graphical distribution  is  very  wide. 

The  most  elongated  and  slender  native  species 
of  salamander  is  the  Plethodon  cinereus,  whose  body 
and  tail,  cylindrical  throughout,  meas- 
ure about  four  inches  in 


Plethodon  cinereus. 


length  ;  the  tail  is  sometimes  considerably  longer  than 
the  head  and  body.  The  color  above  is  dark  brown, 
and  below  it  is  dull  white,  so  thickly  sprinkled  with 
mottled  brown  that  the  general  appearance  is  like 
that  of  "  pepper  and  salt." 

This  little  fellow  is  characteristically  sylvan.  His 
habits  are  exclusively  terrestrial ;  he  is  never  found 
(even  in  the  larval  stage)  in  the  water.  He  hides 
under  the  stones  and  fallen  trunks  in  the  forests 
everywhere,  and  never  strays  to  the  open  fields.  The 
eggs  are  laid  in  a  little  package  beneath  a  stone 
in  a  damp  place;  when  the  young  emerge  they  are 
provided  with  branchiae  (gills  of  a  fringelike  appear- 
ance), but  these  soon  vanish,  and  very  small  speci- 
mens are  often  found  without  them.  I  do  not  recol- 
lect that  I  have  ever  found  this  salamander  in  New 
England;  but  in  the  woodlands  of  southern  New 


SONOLESS  BATRACHIANS. 


and  characteristics  of  this 
of     Plethodon 


York  he  is  far  from  uncommon.  That,  however,  is  a 
matter  of  personal  experience.  Professor  Cope  says 
that  this  species,  found  throughout  the  United  States 
east  of  the  Mississippi  River,  is  apparently  more 
abundant  in  the  Middle  States  than  elsewhere,  and 
that  its  northern  range  is  central  Maine,  Ontario,  and 
Michigan. 

A  very  common  variety  of  this  species  is  the  red- 
backed  salamander  (Plethodon  cinereus  erythrono- 
tus). There  is  prac-  ^  tically  no  difference  be- 
tween the  proportions 
sub-species  and  those 
cinereus.  In  ap- 
pearance there  is  a 
difference;  the  back 
of  Plethodon  cinereus 

erythronotus  is  marked  Red-backed  Salamander 

.  (P.  cinereus  erythronotus). 

with  a  broad  red  stripe 

which  begins  at  the  neck  and  finishes  at  the  tip  of  the 
tail.  There  is  a  mottled  appearance  at  the  middle 
of  the  stripe  which  does  not  affect  this  color.  The 
stripe  is  also  variable  in  tone ;  sometimes  it  is  brick- 
red,  occasionally  it  is  pinkish,  and  at  other  times  it 
is  pale  orange.* 

*  When  it  is  this  color  we  are  liable  to  confuse  it  with  the  spe- 
cies Desmognathus  ochrophcea,  but  the  body  of  the  latter  is  stouter, 
and  its  under  parts  are  never  yellow. 


44       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

This  species  is  common  on  the  west  side  of  Lake 
Champlain,  in  Essex  County,  N.  Y.,  in  southern  New 
England,  in  the  southern  Catskills  (at  Pine  Hill),  and 
in  New  Jersey,  at  least  according  to  my  experience 
and  that  of  several  others.  Its  distribution,  however, 
is  quite  parallel  with  that  of  Plethodon  cinereus.  At 
his  home  in  New  Jersey,  Dr.  Abbott  once  shook  one 
from  a  stick  of  wood  which  he  was  about  to  place  on 
the  fire,  and  the  creature,  instead  of  supporting  its 
reputation  of  being  a  "fire-eater,"  scampered  away 
from  the  hearth  in  frantic  alarm. 

Another  species  closely  allied  to  the  above,  but 
stouter  in  figure,  called  Plethodon  glutinosus,  the 


Plethodon  glutinosus. 


sticky  salamander,  has  a  wide  range  from  Maine  to 
Texas.  Professor  Cope  says  he  found  it  more  abun- 
dant in  Pennsylvania  and  New  York  than  in  south- 
western Yirginia.  It  is  also  said  to  be  common  in 
Massachusetts  and  Maine.*  The  skin  of  this  sala- 
mander is  everywhere  lined  with  little  glands  which 

*  Vide  Batrachia  of  North  America.     Cope. 


SONGLESS  BATRACHIANS.  '  45 

secrete  a  milky  juice ;  these  glands  are  largest  on  the 
upper  surface  of  the  tail,  and  more  scattered  on  the 
under  parts. 

The  head  of  the  sticky  salamander  is  broad,  the 
eyes  are  large  and  prominent,  and  the  toes  are  slight- 
ly swollen  at  the  ends.  The  color  of  the  back  is 
leaden  black,  and  on  the  sides  are  tiny  silvery  gray 
specks.  The  back  is  sometimes  entirely  without  spots, 
or  they  are  exceedingly  minute.  This  salamander  is 
also  terrestrial  in  his  habits.  He  is  found  most  com- 
monly in  the  mountainous  districts  of  the  North  and 
South,  and  his  favorite  haunts  are  the  crevices  of 
rocky  ledges  and  the  hollows  in  decaying  logs.  His 
total  length  is  a  little  less  than  six  inches. 

This  species  is  distinguished  from  Plethodon  cine- 
reus  by  its  broader  figure,  larger  limbs,  less  webbed 
toes,  and  silvery  side  spots. 

The  next  salamanders  which  should  engage  our 
attention  belong  to  the  genus  Spelerpes,  which  is  re- 


Two-striped  j^ellow  Salamander  (Spelerpes  bilineatus). 

markable  for  its  bright  colors,  usually  red  or  yellow. 
The  two-striped  salamander  (Spelerpes  bilineatus)  is 
yellow,  with  a  slightly  brownish  tinge  on  the  back,  and 


46        FAMILIAR  LIFE   IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

two  dark  brown  lines,  one  on  either  side.  The  under 
parts  are  a  spotless  citron  yellow.  The  pretty  little 
creature  is  scarcely  more  than  three  inches  in  length  ; 
his  tiny  legs  are  terminated  by  the  slenderest  of  toes, 
and  his  small  figure  is  altogether  dainty  and  attractive. 
Very  probably  he  is  the  salamander  to  which  Dr. 
Abbott  refers  in  Days  Out  of  Doors,  thus :  "  Deeper 
in  the  drifted  mass,  where  the  trickling  waters  of  a 
little  spring  had  formed  a  shallow  pool,  were  numbers 
of  long,  lithe  yellow  salamanders,  which  I  had  not 
found  before,  and  so  had  held  were  not  to  be  included 
in  our  fauna.  I  forgot  for  the  time  that  others  might 
have  been  more  fortunate,  as  was  the  case."  Yes, 
these  amber-yellow  salamanders,  even  if  they  are  not 
common  in  New  Jersey,  are  somewhat  common  in 
New  York — in  the  southern  Catskills,  for  instance — 
and  in  Pennsylvania.  The  northern  range  of  the 
species  is  extended  with  decreasing  numbers  to  the 
borders  of  Maine,  and,  although  specimens  may  not 
be  common,  perhaps,  in  New  Hampshire,  I  have  found 
one  as  far  north  as  Squam  Lake.  Southwardly  and 
westwardly  this  species  is  found  in  Florida  and  Ohio. 
The  yellow  salamander  is  aquatic  to  a  certain  extent, 
and  frequents  shallow  brooks,  stony  swamps,  and  cold 
springs  ;  but  I  have  also  found  the  little  fellow 
among  the  weeds  that  border  the  brook.  He  is  a 
sprightly  creature,  and  wriggles  away  from  the  hand 


THE   HOME  OF   THE 
SALAMANDER. 

SPELERPES    RUBRA. 

THE   MCCANN   BROOK, 
CAMPTON,   N.  H. 


RED 


SONGLESS  BATRACHIANS.  47 

which  captures  him  with  the   slightest   opportunity 
that  is  offered. 

A  far  commoner  type  of  Spelerpes  is  the  red  sala- 
mander (Spelerpes  rubra),  which  is  found  in  almost 
every  mountain  tarn  or  brook 

in     the     north  country. 

This  is   the   fa- 
miliar, so-called  "red 
lizard,"  perhaps  five  inches  long 
at  most,  whose  brilliant  coloring  in 
the   green    setting    of    the    hillside 
spring   is   an   unexpected   and   de- 
lightful surprise  to  one  who  gazes 
upon  it  for  the  first  time.     In  habits 
this  creature  is  decidedly  aquatic,  as       Red  salamander 

(Spelerpes  rubra). 

he  never  goes  beyond  the  precincts 
of  the  brook  except  in  rainy  weather.  On  a  very 
rainy  day  last  summer  one  made  his  appearance  on 
the  back-door  step  of  my  cottage  in  the  White 
Mountains,  evidently  after  straying  from  the  spring 
a  hundred  feet  behind  the  house  ;  but  wet  days  are 
the  only  ones  for  salamanders  to  travel  in.  There 
is  no  fear  of  "drying  up"  en  route,  and  the  wide 
world,  however  wet,  is  more  interesting  than  the 
stony  environment  of  the  brook  ;  so  I  captured  the 
adventurous  salamander  and  gave  him  a  view  of 
life  in  my  studio  from  the  confines  of  a  fish  globe. 


48       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

But  he  proved  very  uninteresting.  He  did  not  favor 
me  with  his  mysterious  song,  which  I  had  read  so 
much  about,  and  he  ate  nothing  that  was  set  before 
him.  In  fact,  his  existence  proved  to  be  a  very  mo- 
notonous one  from  my  point  of  view,  so  I  gave  him 
his  liberty. 

He  came  on  a  rainy  day,  and  I  let  him  go  on  an- 
other. There  is  nothing  like  being  consistent.  It  is 
well  not  to  forget  that  it  occasionally  rains  frogs  and 
salamanders,  according  to  the  dictum  of  some  simple- 
minded  people,  and  it  is  wisest  to  choose  a  wet  day, 
and  thus  not  shake  the  faith  of  a  believer !  But  there 
is  a  very  strange  thing  connected  with  the  little  •  red 
salamander,  which  is  the  more  remarkable  because 
there  seems  to  be  but  one  record  of  it.  I  refer  to  the 
voice  ascribed  to  the  creature.  It  seems  very  doubtful 
whether  he  has  any  voice.*  Possibly  I  am  the  most 
unreasonable  of  skeptics  in  this  matter,  but  I  have  a 
lingering  idea  that  the  salamander  f  which  John 

*  I  have  referred  the  matter  to  Professor  Garman,  of  Cam- 
bridge, and  he  is  also  very  skeptical  about  the  salamander's  voice. 
As  Professor  Garman  is  one  of  our  leading  authorities  on  batrachi- 
ans,  and  as  he  has  never  heard  a  salamander  sing,  I  am  inclined 
to  accept  his  opinion  as  final. 

f  "  For  years  I  have  been  trying  to  ascertain  for  a  certainty  the 
author  of  that  fine  plaintive  peeping  to  be  heard  more  or  less  fre- 
quently, according  to  the  weather,  in  our  summer  and  autumn 
woods.  It  is  a  note  that  much  resembles  that  of  our  small  marsh 
frog  in  spring— the  Hyla.  It  is  not  quite  so  clear  and  assured, 


SONGLESS  BATRACHIANS.  49 

Burroughs  heard  was  a  scamp  and  a  base  deceiver. 
He  must  have  been  swelling  his  throat  "  for  the  fun 
of  it,"  while  some  Pickering's  Hyla  was  piping  near 
by ;  but  Burroughs  not  only  says  he  saw  and  heard 
this  particular  salamander  sing,  but  adds  that  "it 
makes  more  music  in  the  woods  in  autumn  than  any 
bird." 

Now,  in  all  the  time  I  have  known  the  red  sala- 
mander— from  boyhood — I  have  never  heard  him 
make  any  kind  of  noise.  Still,  this  proves  nothing. 
He  may  sing,  and  all  these  years  I  may  have  missed 
the  song ;  but  on  Staten  Island,  in  Putnam  County, 
in  the  Adirondacks,  in  the  Catskills,  and  in  NQW 
England,  I  have  frequently  seen  him  early  and  late 


but  otherwise  much  the  same.  On  a  very  warm  October  day  I 
have  heard  the  woods  vocal  with  it ;  it  seemed  to  proceed  from 
every  stump  and  tree  about  one.  Ordinarily  it  is  heard  only  at 
intervals  throughout  the  woods.  Approach  never  so  cautiously 
the  spot  from  which  the  sound  proceeds  and  it  instantly  ceases. 
.  .  .  '  Is  it  a  frog,'  I  said,  '  the  small  tree  frog,  the  piper  of  the 
marshes,  repeating  his  spring  note  f '  .  .  .  Doubtless  it  is,  yet  I 
must  see  him  in  the  very  act.  ...  I  heard  the  sound  proceed 
from  beneath  the  leaves  at  my  feet.  Keeping  entirely  quiet,  the 
little  musician  presently  emerged,  and,  lifting  himself  up  on  a 
small  stick,  his  throat  palpitated,  and  the  plaintive  note  again 
came  forth.  .  .  .  Xo,  it  was  no  frog  or  toad  at  all,  but  the  small 
red  salamander,  commonly  called  lizard.  This  was  the  mysteri- 
ous piper,  then,  heard  from  May  till  November  through  all  our 
woods,  sometimes  on  trees,  but  usually  on  or  near  the  ground.  It 
makes  more  music  in  the  woods  in  autumn  than  any  bird." — Pe- 
pacton,  Chapter  V,  John  Burroughs. 
5 


50        FAMILIAR  LIFE   IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

in  the  year,  yet  never  have  heard  him  sing.  Still, 
this  again  proves  nothing ;  there  are  other  places  and 
times  that  he  might  have  sung,  and  not  every  one 
could  be  the  fortunate  listener.  But  let  me  draw  to- 
gether some  facts  which  have  a  favorable  bearing  on 
the  salamander's  voice,  and  then  leave  the  reader  free 
to  form  his  own  opinion. 

Professor  Cope  says  of  a  Western  batrachian, 
Amphiuma  means,  that  it  resembles  the  species  of 
Desmognathus  in  the  possession  of  a  chirrup  or 
whistle  (!).  Then  he  continues,  "I  do  not  know  of 
another  American  salamander  which  possesses  a 
voice."  Also,  in  an  addenda  to  the  work  from  which 
I  quote,*  he  says :  "  Dr.  Charles  C.  Abbott  informs 
rne  that  Spelerpes  rubra  has  a  distinct  whistlelike 
voice,  and  states  that  John  Burroughs  has  also 
heard  it." 

Dr.  Abbott  says,  in  Outings  at  Odd  Times :  "  It 
was  only  after  a  hard  chase  that  I  captured  it "  [a  red 
salamander],  "  and,  holding  it  in  my  hand  until  rested, 
I  endeavored  to  induce  it  to  squeak,  for  it  is  one 
of  the  very  few  that  has  a  voice  •  but  it  was  not  to 
be  coaxed.  It  suffered  many  indignities  in  silence, 
and  so  shamed  me  by  its  patience  that  I  gently 
placed  it  in  the  brook." 

*  The  Batrachia  of  North  America. 


SONGLESS  BATRACHIANS.  51 

William  Hamilton  Gibson,  in  an  article  entitled 
Autumn  Whistlers,  published  in  Harper's  Young 
People,*  also  quotes  from  John  Burroughs  the  same 
account  of  the  red  salamander's  voice  which  I  have 
given  in  the  accompanying  footnote ;  but  he  does 
not  cite  any  instance  where  he  heard  the  voice  and 
saw  the  singer  himself. 

In  a  letter  contributed  to  Nature  I  find  Professor 
Eimer  relates  his  experience  connected  with  a  lizard's 
voice.  He  remarks  that  one  which  he  observed  on 
the  rocks  of  Capri  had  a  peculiar  voice  which  is 
ascribed  among  reptiles  to  geckoes  and  chameleons 
alone.  This  lizard,  he  says,  made  a  peculiarly  soft  pip- 
ing sound  on  being  captured,  and  uttered  repeatedly, 
in  quick  succession,  a  series  of  very  sharp  tones  sound- 
ing like  "Bschi,"  and  reminding  one  of  the  hoarse 
piping  of  a  mouse  or  young  bird.  I  suppose  this  liz- 
ard must  have  been  one  of  the  same  species  which  I 
saw  when  wandering  through  the  deserted  streets  of 
the  ancient  city  of  Pompeii.  There  seemed  to  be  a 
lizard  partly  hidden  in  every  nook  and  cranny  of  the 
walls  on  either  hand.  Once  in  a  while  one  scam- 
pered with  lifted  tail  across  the  rough  pavement  out 
of  my  way.  Upon  capturing  two  or  three,  I  found 
they  resented  handling  by  squirming  about  and  giv- 

*  Also  published  in  a  volume  entitled  Sharp  Eyes. 


52        FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

ing  a  vicious  nip  at  one's  fingers,  but  they  never 
squeaked. 

Now  this  evidence,  such  as  it  is,  proves  but  one 
thing :  that  a  certain  lizard  and  a  salamander  or  two 
do  have  voices ;  but  these,  it  seems,  are  rarely  heard. 
We  have  no  testimony  regarding  the  voice  of  Spe- 
lerpes  rubra  except  that  given  by  Burroughs.  The 
very  fact  that  he  mentions  the  strange  voices  as  com- 
monly occurring  in  the  woods  from  May  until  No- 
vember,  suggests  the  possibility  that  he  may  have 
heard  the  Hylce,  who  do  sing  scatteringly  in  the  woods 
during  this  season.  Moreover,  the  fact  remains  that 
Spelerpes  rubra  is  distinctively  aquatic.  He  has  no 
business  to  be  plaintively  "  peeping "  on  trees  or  on 
the  ground,  especially  when  it  is  not  a  rainy  day. 
Indeed,  if  we  should  care  to  look  for  a  red  salaman- 
der on  a  fine  day  we  would  better  go  to  the  spring  or 
brook  at  once.  He  is,  as  I  have  intimated,  an  at- 
tractive little  creature  whose  quiet  habits  are  worth 
study.  In  appearance  he  is  far  from  positive  red. 
His  color  is  rather  a  translucent  dull  orange  red,  and 
sometimes  he  matches  a  brick  quite  perfectly.  Along 
his  back  are  blackish  specks  which  are  more  or  less 
conspicuous  in  different  individuals.  In  immature 
specimens  these  are  not  distinct,  and  in  some  they  are 
scarcely  perceptible. 

The  red  salamander  is  generally  found  beneath  a 


SONGLESS  BATRACHIANS.  53 

stone  in  a  cold  spring,  or  oftener  in  a  hollow  beside 
the  stone.  He  swims  with  considerable  activity,  and 
is  not  easily  caught  as  he  glides  through  the  water 
with  limbs  pressed  against  the  body  and  tail  undulat- 
ing rapidly ;  but  once  on  land  he  is  at  the  mercy  of 
his  pursuer.  His  efforts  at  locomotion  are  neither 
graceful  nor  rapid.  The  food  of  this  species  con- 
sists of  insects. 

Still  another  even  more  common  salamander,  per- 
haps the  most  abundant  one  in  North  America,  is 
found  in  the  hillside  spring.     This  is  Desmognaihus 
fusca,  a  little  mud-colored  character  scarcely 
more    than    four    inches    long,   which 
burrows  under  the  pebbles  and 
stones,    and    whose    dark 
brown  color  ad- 

A. 

Desmognathus  fusca.         ~^SJ^L«vr-r=s^  ^ ~"  ^~  """^Ej.  (J 

Section  of  keel-shaped  tail  at  A.  ~= 

£ 

mirably  protects  it  from  enemies.  The 
tail  of  this  species  is  characterized  by  finlike  and 
keellike  extensions  which  narrow  toward  the  tip. 
Among  the  wet  blackish  roots  and  stones  of  the 
brook  the  little  creature  is  not  easily  distinguished 
from  his  surroundings,  consequently  he  escapes  our 
notice ;  but  turn  over  a  half-dozen  stones  on  the 
border  of  some  shallow  pool,  and  the  agile  move- 


54        FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

ments  of  one  or  two  wriggling  so-called  lizards  will 
betray  their  presence. 

I  have  found  this  salamander  quite  plentiful  in 
the  shallow  brooks  of  Campton,  X.  H.,  particularly 
where  these  run  through  stony,  boggy  places  charac- 
terized by  blackish  mud,  and  perhaps  shaded  by  the 
feathery  boughs  of  the  hemlock.  But  the  species  is 
common  throughout  the  country,  although  its  eastern 
limit  is  probably  Essex  County,  Mass. 

The  ocher  -  colored  salamander,  Desmognathus 
ochrophcea,  is  an  allied  species  of  more  local  interest, 
which  is  found  in  Essex  County,  N.  Y.,  and  in  the 
Alleghany  Mountains.  It  is  abundant  in  the  Black 
Mountains  of  North  Carolina  and  northern  Pennsyl- 
vania. Its  color  is  brownish  yellow  above,  with  a 
dorsal  row  of  spots  in  darker  yellowish  color,  and  on 
either  side  of  it,  lower  down,  a  band  of  the  same  color 
which  extends  to  the  tip  of  the  tail.  Beneath,  it  is 
without  spots. 

This  small  species,  not  more  than  three  inches 
long,  and  rarely  exceeding  half  the  size  of  Desmogna- 
thusfusea,  resembles  the  red-backed  salamander,  but 
its  figure  is  stouter.  Its  tail  is  rounded,  in  which  re- 
spect it  differs  from  Desmognathus  fusca,  and  it  also 
differs  from  the  other  species  of  the  genus  Desmog- 
naih'US  in  its  thoroughly  terrestrial  habits.  Instead 
of  hiding  under  the  stones  of  the  brook,  it  frequents 


SONGLESS   BATRACHIANS.  55 

the  damp  places  of  the  woods  where  decaying  leaves 
and  tree  trunks  are  plenty,  particularly  those  of  the 
hemlock.  Professor  Cope  says  he  never  saw  one  in 
the  water  of  streams  and  river  banks. 

Desmognathus  nigra,  another  allied  species,  is  a 
black  salamander  about  six  and  a  half  inches  long, 
which  is  found  in  the  Alleghany  Mountains  from 
Pennsylvania  southward.  It  is  particularly  common 
in  Virginia.  This  creature  is  aquatic,  and,  like  Des- 
mognathus fusca,  inhabits  only  shallow  stony  brooks 
and  cold  springs  in  the  remote  parts  of  the  mountains 
which  afford  cool  and  shady  retreats. 

I  am  wholly  unable  to  account  for  the  paragraph 
which  I  have  quoted  on  a  previous  page  from  Cope's 
Batrachia  of  North  America.  The  professor  makes 
no  further  remark  about  the  Desmognathus  possess- 
ing a  whistle.  I  certainly  know  two  of  the  species  of 
this  genus  well,  but  I  am  not  aware  that  either  pos- 
sesses a  voice.  Years  ago  I  used  to  spend  hours 
hunting  through  the  brooks  of  New  Jersey  and  New 
Hampshire  for  salamanders,  and  these  I  carried  to 
my  home  in  the  city  by  the  dozen — that  was  my  boy- 
ish pleasure  ;  but  never  have  I  heard  one  whistle. 
The  creatures  were  apparently  voiceless.  It  seems 
as  though  after  twenty  years  of  acquaintance  with 
them  I  ought  to  have  heard  one  sing;  but  I  have 
not,  and  I  shall  leave  it  now  for  my  readers  to  dis- 


56        FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

cover  that  rare  and  mysterious  music  of  the  so-called 
"  lizard,"  which,  when  it  is  heard,  will  prove  beyond 
a  shadow  of  doubt  that  these  batrachians  are  not 
songless. 


CHAPTEK   IY. 

OUR  ANCIENT  ENEMY  THE  OPHIDIAN.* 
Snakes. 

A  REPTILE  f  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  term,  the 
snake  glides  through  the  grass  and  across  the  road, 
the  most  unfortunate  and  repellent  representative  of 
his  class.  I  think  Euskin  hit  upon  the  true  reason  of 
our  aversion  to  snakes  when  he  said  that  the  creature 
glided  "  a  bit  one  way,  a  bit  another,  and  some  of  him 
not  at  all."  That  is  the  one  characteristic  of  the 
snake — his  circumventive  motion — which  we  most 
dislike ;  regardless  of  his  reptilian  looks,  it  is  suffi- 
cient to  know  that  he  skims  over  the  ground  in  so 
sinuous  a  way  that  we  can  not  keep  an  eye  on  him. 
Any  attempt  to  trace  his  course  meets  with  failure, 
and  before  one  realizes  it,  one  is  stupidly  staring  at 
the  spot  where  the  creature  was  !  We  do  not  like  to 
be  tricked  this  way ;  such  an  insidious  method  of 
locomotion  is  a  species  of  deceit  indicative  of  the 
treacherous  character  of  the  beast,  so  we  count  him 

*  From  6<j>l8iov,  a  serpent.         f  From  the  Latin  repo,  to  crawl. 

57  ' 


58        FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

an  evil  thing  to  wreak  vengeance  upon — a  sort  of 
scapegoat  for  the  sins  of  all  creation ! 

Ever  since  that  unfortunate  incident  in  the  gar- 
den of  Eden  the  serpent  has  had  heaped  upon  his 
back  the  abiding  enmity  of  the  human  race  ;  but  this 
is  a  mere  trifle  so  far  as  the  cause  of  the  ill  feeling 
toward  the  reptile  is  concerned  ;  the  real  truth  is,  we 
do  not  like  his  appearance  or  his  ways,  and  we  kill 
him  upon  any  and  all  occasions  regardless  of  his  his- 
torical associations. 

Now  this  is  all  wrong ;  we  must  learn  to  let  the 
snake  alone,  or  else  in  the  long  run  we  will  be  the 
sufferers.  In  this  eastern  part  of  the  country  we 
have  only  two  venomous  snakes,  the  rattlesnake  and 
the  copperhead  ;  all  the  rest  are  absolutely  harmless. 
As  for  these  two  dangerous  reptiles,  their  venomous 
character  has  been  greatly  overestimated,  and  a  great 
deal  of  sensational  nonsense  has  been  unnecessarily 
connected  with  them  through  the  credulity  of  the 
ignorant.  Not  more  than  two  dogs  in  nine  die  who 
have  been  bitten  by  the  rattlesnake.*  The  copper- 
head is  by  far  a  less  venomous  reptile  than  the  other, 
but  to-day  both  are  so  rarely  met  with  that  they 
scarcely  deserve  attention  at  all  as  familiar  animals. 

The  rattlesnake  still  lives  in  some  of  the  remote 

*  The  Poison  of  Serpents.     S.  Weir  Mitchell.     The  Century 
Magazine,  1889,  p.  514. 


OUR  ANCIENT  ENEMY  THE   OPHIDIAN.          59 

wildernesses  of  the  northeastern  States.  In  the 
vicinity  of  Lake  George,  on  one  of  the  shores  of 
Lake  Champlain,  and  perhaps  in  the  southern  Cats- 
kills,  he  is  occasionally  found;  but  in  the  Adiron- 
dack and  White  Mountains  I  believe  he  does  not  ex- 
ist. In  all  the  years  that  I  have  traveled  among 
these  northern  hills  I  have  never  met  one,  and  I  am 
of  the  opinion  that  few,  if  any,  are  to  be  found  to- 
day even  in  those  localities  where  they  were  once 
reported  to  be  plentiful. 

Of  the  other  harmless  snakes,  the  racer,  the  water 
snake,  and  the  blowing  adder  are  the  most  formidable 
so  far  as  appearances  are  concerned ;  but  they  are 
only  aggressive,  and  fight  without  doing  much  dam- 
age when  angered.  Not  one  of  them  can  bite  as 
hard  as  the  red  squirrel,  and  they  are  not  large 
enough  to  seriously  constrict  a  person.  The  racer 
might  possibly  choke  a  child  if  he  set  about  the  task, 
but  I  have  only  read  of  one  instance  where  the  rep- 
tile had  sufficient  courage  to  attempt  anything  on 
quite  so  large  a  scale.  As  for  our  innocent  little 
green  snake,  he  is  the  mildest  and  most  defenseless 
little  animal  on  the  face  of  the  earth  ;  the  ringdove, 
who  is  a  creature  to  dread  among  the  small  birds,  is  a 
monster  compared  with  him. 

Yet  it  is  a  fact  only  too  familiar  to  us  all  that  the 
cry  of  "  Snake  !  "  on  the  highway  is  the  immediate  sig- 


60        FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

nal  for  war  on  the  reptile  with  whatever  weapons  are 
handy — stones,  pitchforks,  clubs,  sticks,  or  heels. 
Every  man  does  his  duty  in  the  fray,  and  when  the 
poor  mutilated  creature  squirms  at  that  part  where 
he  is  not  quite  smashed,  somebody  remarks :  "  Oh,  it 
isn't  of  any  use  to  hit  it  any  more ;  you  know  snakes 
never  die  until  after  sundown  "  ;  and  we  think  so,  or 
believe  we  do,  and  proceed  on  our  way  satisfied  that 
the  country  is  rid  of  one  more  big  and  dangerous 
reptile. 

But  what  is  the  truth  ?  The  farmer  has  lost  one 
of  his  best  friends ;  in  proof  of  which,  open  the  big 
snake's  stomach  and  see  what  is  there — mice,  insects, 
grubs,  slugs,  rats,  or  moles,  as  the  case  may  be ;  all 
the  worst  enemies  of  the  farmer.  The  very  habits  of 
the  reptile  are  sufficient  proofs  of  his  harmless  and 
beneficent  character.  He  is  never  out  at  night,  and 
in  the  spring  he  haunts  the  plowed  fields  and  garden 
patches,  ever  on  the  alert  for  mice,  or,  best  of  all, 
grubs,  cutworms,  grasshoppers,  and  slugs.  Yet  in 
spite  of  all  this  the  garden  hoe  is  an  ever-ready 
weapon  with  which  to  chase  the  poor  thing  from  the 
field,  if  not  to  eventually  make  mince-meat  of  him. 

It  is  a  most  curious  fact  that  the  greatest  igno- 
rance exists  among  many  intelligent  people  regarding 
snakes.  One  would  scout  at  believing  such  absurd 
things  about  any  other  kind  of  a  creature,  yet  there 


OUR  ANCIENT  ENEMY  THE  OPHIDIAN.          61 

are  many  who  think  the  snake  exerts  a  sort  of  charm 
over  its  prey ;  that  a  frightened  mother  snake 
temporarily  swallows  her  young  in  time  of  danger ; 
and  that  the  forked  tongue  of  the  creature  is  its 
deadly  sting.  Then  one  is  told  that  a  certain  terrible 
serpent  of  Africa  rolls  itself  up  like  a  hoople,  chases 
a  man,  and  strikes  him  dead  with  its  horny,  spiked 
tail.  Also  one  is  told  that  a  snake  never  dies  before 
sunset ;  that  it  always  licks  its  prey  all  over  with  its 
forked  tongue  preparatory  to  swallowing  it,  so  that  it 
will  "  slip  down  easily  "  ;  and  that  when  its  fangs  are 
extracted  it  lives  an  indefinite  length  of  time  on  the 
stimulus  of  its  own  poison,  and  without  food,  and  so 
on — ad  absurdum  ! 

But,  as  opposed  to  all  this  nonsense,  I  can  cite  a 
number  of  facts  not  less  remarkable  and  curious. 
Snakes,  for  instance,  are  strangely  tenacious  of  life ; 
some  can  and  "do  live  a  while  without  their  brains  or 
without  their  heart.  The  body  decapitated  for  a  cer- 
tain length  of  time  continues  to  move  and  coil,  and 
the  separated  head  will  dart  out  the  tongue,  or  even 
try  to  bite  ;  *  but  I  am  not  aware  that  these  automatic 
and  convulsive  movements  are  in  any  way  checked  by 

*  And  more  than  this :  Dr.  S.  Weir  Mitchell  says,  "  If  we  cut 
off  a  snake's  head  and  then  pinch  its  tail,  the  stump  of  the  neck 
returns  and  with  some  accuracy  hits  the  hand  of  the  experimenter 
— if  he  has  the  nerve  to  hold  on  ! " — Century  Magazine,  August, 
1889,  p.  507. 


62       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

the  setting  of  the  sun.  When  the  last  lingering  rem- 
nants of  life  are  fled  the  snake  is  dead,  that  is  all. 
As  for  the  tongue — that  delicate  and  marvelously 
sensitive  organ — it  is  absurd  to  think  so  soft  a  thing 
is  a  sting,  and  ridiculous  to  suppose  it  is  adapted  to 
licking ;  the  snake'  is  dull  of  sight  and  hearing,  and 
this  dainty  tongue  makes  up  for  the  deficiency  by 
pursuing  investigations  by  touch. 

Snakes  are,  as  a  rule,  remarkably  prolific,  and  bear 
anywhere  from  seven  to  one  hundred  or  more  young. 
Sometimes  the  eggs  of  certain  species  hatch  in  the 
oviduct ;  hence  the  term  ovoviviparous.  It  is  easy  to 
understand,  therefore,  that  some  ignorant  person  cut- 
ting open  a  snake  in  the  early  spring,  and  unaware  of 
the  true  position  of  the  stomach,  should  think  that  the 
creature  had  swallowed  the  young.  But  there  are 
those  who  have  very  vague  ideas  of  diseases  as  well  as 
stomachs,  and  I  remember  a  backwoodsman  who 
during  the  greater  part  of  one  hot  summer  suffered 
terribly,  according  to  his  own  account,  from  cholera 
infantum ! 

As  for  the  swallowing  process  of  the  snake,  that 
has  a  length  which  words  can  only  inadequately 
measure.  It  is  something  like  Milton's  "linked 
sweetness  long  drawn  out,"  without  the  sweetness. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  when  one's  teeth  spread  over 
one's  palate  it  can  not  be  expected  that  one's  taste 


OUR  ANCIENT  ENEMY  THE   OPHIDIAN.          63 

should  escape  being  impaired.  So  it  is  with  the 
snake :  he  may  have  a  liking  for  birds,  mice,  and 
frogs,  but  that  he  can  taste  them  is  quite  a  different 
thing.  A  cobra  in  the  London  "  Zoo "  one  time 
made  a  mistake  and  swallowed  her  blanket  instead  of 
a  rabbit.  It  is  true  she  was  partially  blind,  as  it  was 
just  before  she  should  shed  her  skin,*  but  that  fact  in 
no  wise  affected  her  taste.  It  is  therefore  perfectly 
plain  she  could  not  distinguish  the  difference  in  flavor 
between  rabbit  fur  and  a  blanket !  To  the  average 
American  snake  a  sleek  young  mouse  is  no  more  ac- 
ceptable as  a  tidbit  than  a  rank,  acrid-skinned  frog  of 
the  genus  Rana.\ 

But  the  way  the  frog  is  swallowed  is  something 

*  At  the  time  of  sloughing,  or  casting  the  skin,  snakes  are  par- 
tially blinded  by  the  dull  old  skin  which  also  covers  the  eye.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  the  ophidia  do  not  possess  eyelids. 

f  Even  a  snake  is  food  for  a  snake.  Here  is  a  remarkable  in- 
stance of  such  cannibalism.  M.  Leon  Vaillant,  in  a  paper  read 
before  the  Academic  des  Sciences  de  Paris,  says  :  "  In  a  menagerie 
of  the  museum  of  the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  a  French  viper  (Pelias  be- 
rws)had  to  be  put  in  the  same  cage  with  a  horned  viper  (Cerastes). 
As  the  individuals,  although  they  belonged  to  different  species, 
were  about  the  same  size,  it  was  supposed  that  they  would  live 
peaceably  together.  It  was  a  mistake.  During  the  night  that  fol- 
lowed the  Cerastes  swallowed  the  Pelias,  and,  in  order  to  accom- 
modate himself  to  his  huge  prey,  his  body  was  distended  so  that 
the  scales  which  touched  each  other  laterally  and  even  lapped  in  his 
normal  condition,  were  now  so  spread  apart  that  between  the  lon- 
gitudinal rows  a  bare  space  equal  in  size  to  the  scales  was  left. 
Digestion  went  on  regularly,  however,  and  the  Cerastes  did  not 
appear  to  suffer." — The  American  Naturalist,  March,  1893. 


64       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

appalling.  It  is  one  of  those  "ways"  of  the  snake 
which,  as  I  have  already  said,  we  do  not  like.  Now 
we  sometimes  facetiously  remark  on  the  facility  with 
which  a  small  boy  "  gets  around  "  a  large  piece  of  pie. 
The  expression,  however,  more  exactly  fits  the  case 
of  the  snake ;  he  truly  gets  around  his  prey  with  a 
courageous  disregard  for  its  formidable  dimensions. 
His  head  is  scarcely  half  an  inch  thick,  yet  down 
goes  the  frog  between  his  distended  jaws,  and  yet  it 
measured  not  a  whit  less  than  an  inch  and  a  half  in 
diameter.  Now  the  simple  fact  is,  the  bones  of  the 
serpent  are  held  together  by  elastic  ligaments,  and 
the  reptile's  capacity  is  correspondingly  elastic.  The 
teeth,  too,  are  set  with  a  backward  curve,  and  by 
slightly  working  the  jaws*  the  kicking  frog  is 
worried  down  by  slow  degrees  in  spite  of  a  slippery 
hide  which,  were  it  not  for  those  tiny,  sharp,  re- 
curved teeth,  might  assist  him  in  the  struggle  for 
freedom.  But  he  is  doomed,  and  in  less  than  ten 
minutes  his  toes  disappear,  and  he  proceeds  on  a 
lumpy  course  to  the  stomach  of  the  reptile,  smoth- 
ered. Immediately  after  swallowing  the  frog  the 
snake  gives  a  ghastly  wide-mouthed  gasp  or  two,  as  if 
choking  to  death.  But  no  such  thing !  he  is  merely 

*  These  are  formed  of  no  less  than  four  sections,  two  above 
and  two  below,  each  of  which  is  worked  more  or  less  independ- 
ently. 


OUR  ANCIENT  ENEMY  THE  OPHIDIAN.          65 

working  his  jaws  back  to  a  state  of  repose,  and  gulp- 
ing down  a  few  breaths  to  make  up  for  the  time  just 
past  when  breathing  was  somewhat  difficult. 

Like  the  batrachians,  the  snakes  sleep  all  winter, 
waking  up  after  a  seven  or  eight  months'  nap  under 
the  vivifying  influence  of  spring  sunshine,  and  with  a 
sharpened  appetite  for  frogs,  mice,  and  the  like.  At 
this  time,  too,  the  snake  discards  his  dull  skin  and 
arrays  himself  in  a  resplendent  coat  of  iridescent 
colors.  The  skin  is  shed  complete,  inside  out,  and 
scraped  off  by  the  contact  with  bushes,  rough  ground, 
and  dead  leaves. 

Now  the  method  of  a  snake's  locomotion  is  as 
curious  as  its  habit  of  hibernation.  Watch  one  move, 
and  it  is  hard  to  tell  how  he  moves.  "We  may  think 
it  is  entirely  by  lateral  pressure  against  every  blade 
of  grass  and  every  grain  of  sand ;  but  that  is  not  all. 
The  lithe  creature  does  something  more  than  push 
himself  along.  Every  rib  is  employed  in  a  measure 
as  a  leg  would  be,  and  with  careful  observation  one 
may  detect  a  certain  undulation  in  wavelike  intervals 
beneath  the  skin,  which  is  due  to  the  contraction  and 
expansion  of  the  ribs  as  the  snake  moves.  Thus  a 
snake  can,  if  he  chooses,  move  in  almost  a  straight 
line  and  over  rather  slippery  surfaces. 

The  constricting  power  of  some  snakes  is  also  a 

marvel.     With  lightninglike  rapidity  the  reptile  will 
6 


66       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

throw  himself  about  the  body  of  his  victim  and 
tighten  his  hold  as  one  might  tighten  the  cord  about 
a  bundle  by  pulling  the  string  ends.  But  the  squeez- 
ing of  our  American  snakes  is  a  more  serious  matter 
for  mice  than  men,  so  we  will  pass  that,  and  devote 
our  attention  to  the  snakes  themselves. 

There  are  two  distinct  groups  or  families  of  our 
snakes,  one  of  which  includes  the  poisonous  rattle- 
snake and  copperhead,  and  the  other  all  the  non- 
poisonous  snakes.  Here  they  are  as  defined  by  Prof. 
S.  F.  Baird  : 

CKOTALID^E  :  Erectible  poisonous  fangs  in  front ; 
few  teeth  in  the  upper  jaw ;  pupil  of  eye  vertical ; 
deep  pit  on  the  side  of  the  face  between  the  eye  and 
nostril. 

COLUBEID^:  No  poisonous  fangs;  pupil  of  eye 
round ;  no  pit,  and  both  jaws  fully  provided  with 
teeth. 

According  to  Prof.  Samuel  Garman,  there  are  at 
least  four  species  of  rattlesnakes  east  of  the  Missis- 
sippi River ;  but  with  one  only  will  we  have  to  do  as 
a  barely  common  object  of  familiar  life.  This  is  the 
Northern  rattlesnake  (Crotalus  horridus)*  Length, 
forty  to  sixty  inches ;  dark  brown  above,  blotched 
with  brown,  black,  and  tan  somewhat  diagonally ; 

*  The  nomenclature  in  every  case  is  that  of  E.  D.  Cope,  1892. 
Vide  Proc.  U.  S.  Nat.  Mu.,  vol.  xiv,  p.  589. 


OUR  ANCIENT  ENEMY  THE  OPHIDIAN. 


yellow  beneath,  blotched  ;  contracted  neck  ;  carinated 
(keeled)  dorsal  scales  in  twenty-three  to  twenty-five 
rows.  The  fangs  recline  against  the  roof  of  the 
mouth  protected  by  an  elastic  membrane.  They  are 
the  only  teeth  on  the  maxillaries.  These  fangs  when 
broken  off  or  re- 
moved are  re- 
placed by  oth- 
ers. The  ven- 
om may  or  may 
not  be  ejected 
by  the  serpent.* 
Like  the  skunk, 
the  creature  is 
chary  about  dis- 
pensing what  he  seems  to  consider  a  valuable  product 
not  to  be  wasted  on  any  account.  The  snake  can  only 
strike  a  distance  equal  to  half  the  length  of  his  body, 
and  he  is  by  no  means  aggressive,  as  the  passer-by  is 
unmolested  if  he  does  not  begin  hostilities.  The 
snake  need  not  necessarily  be  coiled  to  strike,  either. 
He  will  throw  himself  right  or  left  as  far  as  the  posi- 
tion of  his  body  allows  him  to  reach.  The  noise  of 
the  rattle  is  extremely  like  a  rapid  stridulation  of  the 
cone-headed  grasshopper  (Conocephalus  ensiger\  with 


The  rattlesnake  coiled  to  strike  :  showing  the  flat- 
tening of  the  body  against  the  ground. 


*  Samuel  Garman. 


68        FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

about  eleven  hundred  vibrations  to  a  minute,  instead 
of  two  hundred  and  eighty-eight  as  in  the  case  of  the 
grasshopper.*  Ba  Because  a  serpent  may 

possess  half  a  "fff f  "  dozen  sections  to  his 

rattle  it  by  no  os=s  means  indicates  that  he 

is  six  years  old.  More  than  one  section  may  be  added 
in  a  year's  time,  and  frequently  one  is  broken  off  by 
accident. 

The  copperhead  (Ancistrodan  contortrix).  Length, 
thirty-six  inches  ;  light  rusty  brown  above,  with 
darker  blotches  and  a  coppery  cast  to  the  head ; 
^-shaped  brown  marks  on  sides ;  yellowish  beneath ; 
fangs  like  the  rattlesnake's.  An  extremely  rare  but 
dangerous  reptile,  with  a  pointed,  horny  tail  but  with 
no  warning  rattle. 

The  familiar  members  of  the  non-poisonous  family 
Colubridce  are  as  follows : 

The  ground  snake  (Carphophiops  amosnus). 
Length,  twelve  inches ;  opalescent  color ;  chestnut 
brown  above,  salmon  beneath  ;  head  very  small,  not 
wider  than  the  neck;  thirteen  dorsal  rows;f  found 


*  In  the  American  Naturalist  for  March,  1893,  somebody 
gives  the  vibrations  of  the  rattle  a  tempo  of  one  hundred  and 
ten  per  minute.  This  is  a  great  error,  which  may  be  proved 
at  once  by  setting  the  metronome  at  one  hundred  and  twelve 
— adagio. 

f  By  this  I  mean  that  the  scales  on  the  back  are  arranged  in 
thirteen  rows. 


OUR  ANCIENT  ENEMY  THE  OPHIDIAN. 


69 


under  dry  logs  and  stones  in  the  mountains.     Massa- 
chusetts to  Louisiana  and  Illinois. 

The  worm  snake  * 
( Carphophiops 
Length,  twelve 
lustrous  purple 
flesh  color  be- 
half and  half ; 


vermis). 
inches  ; 
black  above, 
neath  ;  colors  about 
head  very  small,  not  wider 


Ground  snake, 
12  inches. 


thirteen  dorsal  rows.     Mis- 
sas,  and    southern    Illi- 


than  the  neck ; 
souri,     Kan- 
nois  only. 

The  chain  snake  (Ophibolus  getulus  getulus). 
Length,  forty-eight  inches;  handsome  and  inoffen- 
sive ;  black,  crossed  by  narrow, 

continuous  yellow-      ^jl|i^BfclS»^hi     white  rings 
which  bifurcate  on   ffiSlF  rlW    the  flanks  ; 

on  the  back 
are       large 
black     hexa- 
gons ;    blotched   with   black 
beneath ;  head  scarcely  wider 
than  the  neck.     Cope  says  that 
certain  tamed  chain  snakes  be- 
longing once  to  his  little  daughter  drank  milk  from 
a  saucer.     The  chain  snake  is  a  great  enemy  to  other 


Chain  snake,  48  inches. 


*  Carphophis  amcenus,  var.  vermis.    Samuel  Garman. 


70       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

snakes.  Common  in  the  South,  and  occasionally 
found  on  Long  Island,  .N".  Y. ;  southern  New  York 
to  Florida  and  Louisiana. 

The  king  snake  (Ophibolus  getulus  sayi).  Length, 
forty-eight  inches ;  black  above,  with  a  yellow  spot  on 
each  scale ;  the  effect  of  these  spots  is  to  form  sixty 
transverse  lines  across  the  back ;  yellowish-white  be- 
neath, with  black  blotches.  West  of  the  Alleghanies, 
north  to  Illinois  and  Wisconsin  (Hoy). 


Milk  snake,  spotted  adder,  48  inches. 

The  spotted  adder,  milk,  or  house  snake  (Ophi- 
bolus  doliatus  triangulus).*  Length,  forty-eight 
inches ;  handsome ;  pale  brown  or  ash-gray  above, 
with  about  fifty  dorsal,  transverse,  triangular  choco- 
late blotches  edged  with  black;  other  lateral  ones; 
yellowish-white  beneath,  checkered  with  square  black 
blotches;  small  eye;  twenty-one  dorsal  rows.  It  is 
said  to  be  fond  of  milk,  and  to  frequent  the  floors  of 
dairies  and  cellars  of  houses.  I  killed  one  at  least 
thirty-eight  inches  long  last  summer  in  a  vegetable 

*  He  has  even  more  names — viz.,  chicken  snake,  thunder  and 
lightning  snake,  checkered  adder,  etc. 


OUR  ANCIENT  ENEMY  THE   OPHIDIAN.          71 

garden,  much  against  my  will,  but  in  deference  to  a 
person  who  had  a  mortal  antipathy  to  snakes.     The 
poor   creature   was    absolutely   harmless,   and 
never  showed  fight  under  the  heavy  blows 
of  a  club.     This  was  the  first,  and  it  will 
be  the  last,  harmless  snake  I  shall  accom- 
modatingly kill  for  another — transeat  in 
exemplum  !      The  milk  snake  is  com- 
mon   from    Maine    to    Virginia    and 
westward    to    Iowa     and    Wisconsin. 

The  ring-necked  snake  (Diadophis 
punctatus).     Length,  fifteen  inches ;   a 
beauty,  and  dressed  tastefully ;    violet- 
black  above,  orange  beneath,  edged  by 
black  spots  ;  yellow-white  ring  or  collar 
around  the  neck ;   fifteen  dorsal  rows ; 
food,  beetles,  slugs,  and  grasshoppers; 
found  beneath   fallen  logs  and  stones. 
Common   in   the   mountains  of   Penn- 
sylvania  and    Virginia,   Maine   to   Wis- 
consin, and  the  Southern  States. 

The   green  or  grass  snake  (Liopeltis 
vernalis  ;     Cyclophis    vernalis   of    other 
authors).    Length,  eighteen  inches  ;  beau-        j»pake, 
tif  ul ;  bright  green  above,  yellowish  be- 
neath ;  fifteen  dorsal  rows ;  small  head ;  very  smooth 
scales  •  food,  insects,  grubs,  etc.     Very  common,  and 


72        FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

exceedingly  gentle,  frequenting  wet  meadows  and 
sometimes  climbing  the  alder  bushes.  My  Manx 
cat  frequently  brought  the  pretty  green  creatures 
into  my  studio ;  they  never  showed  the  slightest  hos- 
tility on  being  so  roughly  handled  by  the 
cat.  Maine  to  Virginia  and  Wisconsin. 
Another  similar  species  (Cydophis 
oestwus)*  length,  twenty-seven  inches, 
has  seventeen  dorsal  rows,  the  verte- 
bral ones  strongly  keeled  /  a  long, 
slender  Southern 
green  snake.  North 
to  New  Jersey  and 

Green  snake,  18  inches. 

southern  Illinois. 

The  fox  snake  (Coluber  vulpinus).  Length,  sixty 
inches  ;  light  brown  above,  with  sixty  dorsal,  trans- 
verse chocolate  blotches  margined  with  black ;  one 
or  two  lateral  rows ;  yellowish-white  beneath ;  the 
four  lateral  rows  of  scales  smooth.  Massachusetts  to 
Kansas  and  northward. 

The  pilot  snake,  or  mountain  black  snake  (Coluber 
obsoletus  obsoletus).  Length,  sixty  inches;  graceful, 
inoffensive,  and  mild  ;  uniform  silky  brown  or  black 
above,  with  a  few  of  the  scales  narrowly  edged  with 
white,  slaty  black  beneath,  with  chin  and  throat  yel- 

*  Phyllophilophis  cestivus.    Samuel  Garman. 


OUR  ANCIENT  ENEMY  THE   OPHIDIAN.          73 

lowish ;  twenty-seven  dorsal  rows,  the  seven  outer 
ones  smooth.  Resembles  the  racer,  or  black  snake, 
in  color  only.  Mt.  Tom,  Mass.,  to  Texas ;  abundant 
in  southern  Illinois. 

The  pine,  or  bull  snake  (Pityophis  melanoleu- 
cus).  Length,  sixty  inches  ;  very  harmless  ;  tan  and 
buff;  from  twenty-seven  to  thirty-three  dorsal 
blotches,  brown  margined  with  black ;  three  series 
of  lateral  blotches ;  brownish -white  beneath  ;  twenty- 
nine  dorsal  rows.  An  exceedingly  shy  snake,  fre- 
quenting sandy  pine  forests  near  the  coast,  and  disap- 
pearing in  a  hole  in  the  ground  upon  being 
surprised.  Common  south  of  the  Ohio 
River,  and  found  from  New  Jersey  to 
South  Carolina  and  Michigan  (Gibbs). 

The    black    snake,    or 
racer   (Bascanium    con- 
strictor).    Length,  forty- 
eight   to   eighty  inches  ; 
lustrous  black  above,  greenish 
or   slaty -black   beneath  ;  chin 

and   throat    dull  white  ;    Seven-  Black  snake,  racer, 

48  inches. 

teen  dorsal  rows.      An   ugly 

customer  when  angered,  but  a  harmless  and  cowardly 
one  ;  remarkable  for  the  speed  with  which  it  "  covers 
the  ground,"  and  hence  called  "the  racer."  He 
frequents  wild  ground  where  there  is  water,  climbs 


Y4:        FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN   FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

trees  with  ease,  and  has  a  special  penchant  for  birds 
and  their  eggs.  He  has  no  mean  power  of  constric- 
tion also,  and  wins  in  a  fight  with  the  rattlesnake. 
Elliot  Coues  relates  an  instance  in  which  he  witnessed 
one  of  the  frequent  combats  between  the  black  snake 
and  the  rattlesnake,  when  the  former,  in  less  time  than 
it  takes  to  tell  it,  snapped  the  latter  asunder  by  wind- 
ing the  anterior  and  posterior  parts  of  his  body  around 
the  neck  and  tail  of  the  rattlesnake  and  suddenly  pull- 
ing himself  taut.  The  food  of  this  snake  is  mainly 
rats,  mice,  frogs,  toads,  and  birds.  Not  uncommon 
throughout  the  country  east  of  the  Missouri  River. 

The  striped,  or  ribbon  snake  (Eutomia  saurita)* 
Length,  twenty-eight  inches  ;  light,  bright  choco- 
late above,  with  three  yellow  stripes ;  greenish -white 
beneath;  nineteen  dorsal  rows;  large  eyes;  slender 
and  graceful  figure,  agile ;  found  on  the  edge  of  the 
woods  or  near  the  water.  A  mild -tempered  creature, 
which,  should  it  happen  to  bite,  pricks  one's  finger  as 
a  pin  might.  Common  throughout  the  east,  and 
abundant  in  the  Alleghany  mountains. 

The  western  garter,  or  striped  snake  (Eutwnia 
radix).  Length,  twenty  inches  ;  brownish  or  green- 
ish-black above,  with  three  narrow  yellow  stripes,  and 
six  series  of  black  spots,  sometimes  obscure ;  pale 

*  These  striped  or  garter  snakes  emit  an  offensive  odor. 


OUR  ANCIENT  ENEMY  THE  OPHIDIAN,          ?5 

greenish  tone  beneath,  marked  black ;  nineteen  dor- 
sal rows,  sometimes  less.  Common  in  central  Western 
States  to  Lake  Michigan  and  Oregon. 

The  common  garter  snake  (Eutcenia  sirtalis  sir- 
talis).  Length,  thirty  to  forty  inches ;  olive-brown 
above,  sometimes  nearly  black,  with 
three  narrow  light-yellow  stripes  en- 
croached upon  by  the  three  series  of 
small  black  spots  on  sides  ;  greenish 
white  beneath  ;  nineteen  dorsal  rows ; 
dorsal  scales  keeled ;  body  somewhat 
stout ;  food,  frogs,  toads,  mice,  etc. ; 
stouter  than  Eutcenia  saurita.  This 
snake  is  commoner  in  New  York 
than  any  other  species.  It  is  found 
from  Essex  County  to  Westchester 
County,  and  I  remember  it  as  the 
most  familiar  snake  about  Lake 
Mahopac,  Putnam  County.  It 
frequents  wet  meadows,  and  is 
generally  found  near  the  water. 
The  female  bears  a  great  number  Garter  snake,  30  inches, 
of  young ;  she  is  ovo viviparous. 
Professor  Baird  says  he  has  killed  one  with  no  less 
than  eighty -three  little  ones  about  six  inches  long. 
It  is  a  disagreeable  snake  to  handle,  as  it  emits  a 
fetid  odor.  Common  through  the  United  States,  ex- 


76       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

cepting  the  Pacific  coast ;  but  I  have  not  yet  seen 
one  in  the  White  Mountain  region  ;  it  evidently  pre- 
fers a  warmer  climate.  It  is  abundant,  however,  in 
Illinois. 

Still  another  species  of  the  garter  snake  (Eutobnia 
sirtalis  dorsalis)  is  common  throughout  the  United 
States.  This  species  is  brownish  olive  above,  with 
three  broad  green -white  stripes,  dark  spots  on  the 
sides,  and  greenish  white  beneath. 

The  brown,  or  spotted  snake  (Storeria  dekayi). 
Length,  twelve  inches  ;  ash  or  chestnut- brown 

above,  with  a  clay-colored  dorsal  band, 
dotted    along  the   margin    two    scales 
apart  ;     gray-white     beneath  ;    a    dark 
patch  on  either  side  of  the  back  of  the 
head ;  seventeen  dorsal  rows ;  food,  in- 
sects, etc.    Exceedingly  common  in  New 
York   and   Massachusetts ;   abundant  on 
the  shores  of  Lake  Champlain.     Maine 
to  Wisconsin,  Florida,  and  Texas. 

The  red-bellied  snake  (Storeria  oc- 
cipitomaculatd).  Length,  twelve  inches ; 
pretty ;  ash,  chestnut,  or  even  olive - 
brown  above,  with  three  distinct  light- 
colored  irregular  spots  behind  the  head ; 
a  beautiful  reddish-salmon  beneath  ;  fif- 

Red-bellied 

snake,  is  inches,    teen  dorsal  rows ;  dorsal  scales  keeled ; 


OUR  ANCIENT   ENEMY  THE   OPHIDIAN.          77 

food,  insects,  etc.  Yery  abundant  everywhere  on 
meadows  and  grassy  ground,  and  associated  with 
Storeria  dekayi.  Maine  to  Florida  and  Texas. 

Kirtland's  snake  (Clonophis  Mrilandi  ;  Tropido- 
clonium  Mrtlandi  of  other  authors).  Length,  six- 
teen inches ;  a  beauty  ;  light,  ruddy  brown  above, 
with  three  alternating  series  of  round 
black  spots,  the  central  ones  of  which  are 
indistinct  and  the  smallest ;  reddish  or 
perhaps  yellowish  beneath,  with  a  row 
of  small  black  spots  on  either  side ;  nine- 
teen dorsal  rows ;  body  stout.  It  will 
flatten  its  body  and  remain  motionless  to 
escape  detection.  A  Western  snake. 
Ohio  to  Illinois. 

The    water    snake   or  water   adder 
(Natriw  fasciata  sipedon  /    Nerodia 
sipedon  of  other  authors).     Length, 
forty  eight   inches ;    dull    bronze 
brown   above,  redder   on  the 
sides  ;  transverse  light  irregu- 
lar bands  margined  with  black  ; 

yellowish    to    reddish   beneath  ;          Water  snake,  48  inches. 

twenty-three  dorsal  rows ;  head 

narrow  and  long ;  strongly  carinated  scales.  This 
snake  frequents  marshes,  overflowed  meadows,  and 
the  shores  of  streams  and  ponds,  climbs  among  the 


Y8       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

bushes,  coils  there,  and  slips  into  the  water  when 
alarmed  ;  it  is  a  good  swimmer,  and  a  great  fighter 
when  enraged,  but  it  is  perfectly  harmless.  It  is 
the  cast  skin  of  this  reptile  which  that  interesting 
woodland  bird,  the  crested  flycatcher  (Myiarchus 
crinitus),  is  so  fond  of  as  a  lining  for  her  nest.* 
The  food  of  the  water  adder  is 
frogs,  small  fish,  salamanders,  etc. 
Common  from  Massachusetts  to  Wis- 
consin and  Georgia.  In 
the  South  it  is  called 
the  water  moccasin. 
Another  species  of  water 
snake,  sometimes  called  the 
queen  snake  (Natrix  lebe- 
ris  ;  Regina  leberis  of  other 
authors),  length,  twenty- 
three  inches,  also  common 

in  the  East,  is  differently  marked  ;  the  color  above 
is  chestnut-  or  chocolate-brown,  with  a  lateral  yel- 
low band  and  three  narrow  black  dorsal  stripes ;  yel- 
lowish beneath ;  nineteen  dorsal  rows ;  dorsal  scales 
carinated.  Frequents  the  banks  of  streams,  and  shal- 
low water  where  there  are  loose  stones.  Common 


Queen  snake,  23  inches. 


*  The  nest  is  usually  in  a  hole  fifteen  feet  up  in  a  tree,  and  it 
is  lined  with  bits  of  roots,  grasses,  and  snake's  skin. 


OUR  ANCIENT  ENEMY  THE   OPHIDIAN.          ?9 

from   New   York   to   Wisconsin ;    abundant  in   the 
mountains  of  Pennsylvania  and  Ohio. 

The  blowing  or  deaf  adder  or  hognose  (Heterodon 
platyrhinus).  Length,  thirty  inches ;  yellow-gray 
and  sepia-brown  above,  checkered  with  about  thirty 
dark  dorsal  blotches ;  yellowish  beneath ;  a  dark  band 
across  the  forehead,  and  a  pug  nose ;  strongly  cari- 
nated  scales  back  of  the  head ;  twenty -five  dorsal 
rows.  This  beggar  has  a  threatening  aspect  when  we 
approach  him,  but  he  is  perfectly  harmless  ;  he  is  "all 
bark  and  no  bite,"  flattening  his  head  and  body  out 
until  he  looks  twice  as  big  as  he  really  is,  and  hissing 
like  a  steam  engine,  with  an  effect  of  fearful  malig- 
nancy. He  is  the  creature,  too,  who,  so  hard  of  hear- 
ing, was  the  occasion  of  that  familiar  and  siiggestive 


Hognose  snake,  blowing  adder,  30  inches. 

saying,  "  as  deaf  as  an  adder."  He  is  common  through 
the  Eastern  and  Southern  States,  is  rare  in  New 
York,  and  probably  is  not  found  at  all  in  New  Eng- 
land. 

The  hognose  snake  (Heterodon-  simus).     Length, 


80       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

twenty -six  inches  ;  stouter  and  smaller  than  H.  pla- 
tyrhinus\  light  brown -yellow,  with  a  dorsal  series 
of  thirty-five  transverse  black  blotches ;  sides  with  one 
to  three  smaller  series ;  yellowish  beneath ;  twenty- 
three  to  twenty-seven  dorsal  rows;  a  decided  pug 
nose,  evidently  of  great  use  in  burrowing  through  the 
soil.  Common  in  the  West  and  South. 


CHAPTEK  Y. 

ACCOMPLISHED  VOCALISTS. 

The  Robin,  Hermit  Thrush,  Veery,  Redstart,  Wood 
Pewee,  etc. 

ALL  the  strange  world  of  wild  life  offers  no 
greater  contrast  than  that  between  the  snake  and  the 
bird.  The  latter  is  a  true  musician  ;  the  former  is  as 
mum  as  the  brown  leaf  under  which  he  hides.  Who 
has  heard  the  robin's  note  and  failed  to  recognize  the 
fact  that  the  bird  is  a  musician  ? 

I  do  not  make  a  random  selection  of  the  robin 
(Merula  migratoria)  among  the  long  list  of  singing 
birds,  and  intimate  that  he  is  a  musician  beyond  the 
rest.  Many  a  woodland  bird  is  a  better  singer ;  but 
to  every  thrush's  song  we  will  hear  a  score  of  robins' 
songs,  and  some  one  of  the  robins  will  most  likely  be 
an  accomplished  vocalist,  just  like  the  one  whose 
music  I  have  interpreted  a  little  farther  on. 

We  respond  to  the  musical  side  of  Nature  only  in 
proportion  to  the  development  of  our  "  ear  for  music." 
It  must  be  admitted  that  this  very  common  expres- 

r  si 


82       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

sion  implies  that  there  are  those  who  have  no  ear  for 
music — those,  in  other  words,  who  are  tone-deaf. 
But  tone-deafness  is  simply  a  qualifying  term,  and 
we  are  forced  to  admit  that  the  person  without  an  ear 
for  music  is  to  a  certain  extent  deaf.  Now,  a  par- 
tially deaf  person  will  hardly  be  able  to  distinguish 
apart  the  songs  of  two  different  robins,  one  of  which 
is  much  more  musical  than  the  other.  So  I  must 
appeal  to  the  imagination  of  the  unmusical  as  well 
as  the  musical  mind  in  order  to  have  my  bird  songs 
understood ;  they  must  not  be  taken  too  literally.* 

I  have  said  that  we  respond  to  the  music  of  Na- 
ture according  to  the  degree  of  our  musical  percep- 
tion ;  but  it  only  needs  a  little  cultivation  of  our  sense 
of  hearing  to  be  able  to  intelligently  grasp  the  mu- 
sical idea  which  Nature  is  constantly  suggesting. 
Thus  a  musical  robin  last  June  sang  the  following  mel- 

or  t^ 


less  perfectly:  Ifon  EEjVlLES 


*  Without  imagination  it  would  be. difficult,  if  not  impossible, 
to  understand  a  wild  bird's  song.  One  has  not  only  to  hear  all 
the  notes  with  an  attentive  ear,  but  sort  them  out,  so  to  speak, 
and  transmute  them  to  truer  and  better  conditions.  Thus,  what 
is  doubtfully  A  in  a  bird's  song  must  be  positively  A  in  the  hear- 
er's mind  ;  and  a  musical  fifth  which  is  off  a  quarter  or  half  a 
tone  must  be  considered — not  a  bit  off !  In  music  we  allow  only 
tones  and  half-tones — for  instance,  C  and  D  ;  between  the  two  is 
C  sharp,  the  half-tone.  The  bird  is  very  apt  to  sing  a  quarter- 
tone,  that  is  something  halfway  between  C  and  C  sharp. 


ACCOMPLISHED   VOCALISTS.  33- 

But  this  song  was  suggestive  rather  than  positive ; 
the  robin  produced  all  the  melody,  but  it  was  a  vague 
melody.  One  could  not  be  quite  positive  that  every 
turn  was  meant  to  be  just  what  the  musical  mind  de- 
manded that  it  ought  to  be. 

Nature  is  always  suggesting,  but  never  complet- 
ing ;  she  does  not  commit  herself  to  measured  tones 
and  exact  musical  phrases  any  more  than  she  does  to 
exact  primary  colors.  It  is  invariably  that  vagueness 
of  purport  that  renders  her  work  fascinating,  and  in- 
spires the  artist  to  take  hold  of  it  and  make  the  mean- 
ing plain. 

There  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  the  robin  tried 
to  touch  as  many  tones  of  regular  intervals  as  he 
could.  Certainly  he  had  more  excuse  for  errors 
than  the  unmusical  man  who  vowed  that  he  could 
always  distinguish  "  My  country,  'tis  of  thee,"  from 
"Yankee  Doodle."  But  who,  pray,  would  call  the 
robin  unmusical  that  could  produce  such  a  melody  as 
that  I  have  transcribed  ?  Without  interpretation,  his 
song,  although  jerky,  agitated,  and  vague  in  meaning, 
would  still  be  perfectly  musical.  I  have  taken  no 
liberties  with  his  triplets. 

But  here  is  another  specimen  from  a  sprightly 
musician  who  sang  in  a  maple  tree  for  a  few  min- 
utes one  day  last  June,  just  before  my  studio  win- 
dow (in  Campton,  X.  H.),  and  then  disappeared 


84       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST, 
never     to     return. 


never  10  return.  n 
It  was  a  Baltimore  g§ 
oriole  (Icterus  gal- 
bula),  and  his  simple  musical  phrase  was  absolutely 
true  in  pitch,  differing  in  this  respect  from  my 
robin's  song.  But  the  most  remarkable  thing  about 
a  really  musical  oriole — one  may  not  happen  to  be  as 
melodic  as  another — is  the  way  he  syncopates.  Now 
syncopation  in  music  is  equivalent  to  the  dropping  of 
an  important  note  ;  one  of  accent  or  emphasis.  Who 
has  not  heard  in  the  streets  the  shrill  fife  and  drum 
with  the  measured  boom  of  the  bass  drum,  and  who 
does  not  remember  the  turn  the  latter  makes  at  the 
end  of  a  musical  phrase  ?  It  sounds  as  though  the 
next  to  the  last  "  boom "  was  dropped  in  the  street, 
and  the  drummer,  stooping  to  pick  it  up,  lost  a  little 
time  and  then  hurriedly  made  it  up  thus :  Boom ! 
boom  !  boom !  boom !  boom !  boom !  boom  !— 
boom-boom ! 

This  is  a  perfect  syncope,  and  it  is  exactly  what 
the  whistling  oriole  is  continually  doing.  Here  is  a 
second  instance  of  dropped  notes  in  a  little  song  I 
once  heard  in  the  Harvard  Botanical  Garden,  Cam- 
bridge, in  May.  i-a-* 

But  this  oriole 
was  not  quite  so  musical  as  the  one  I  heard  in  Camp- 
ton,  N.  H. 


THE   BANKS 
OF   THE 

PEMIGEWASSET, 
THE  HOME  OF  THE 
BLACK-BILLED   CUCKOO 

COCCYZUS 
ERYTHROPHTHAfttUS. 


ACCOMPLISHED   VOCALISTS.  85 

I  have  long  since  learned  who  plays  the  "  kettle- 
drum" of  the  bird  orchestra;  he  is  the  black-billed 
cuckoo  (Coccyzus  erythrophthalmus)  a  long,  lithe, 
pigeonlike  creature,  who  is  subject  to  nervous  attacks 
after  a  prolonged  silence,  and  lets  off  the  following  : 

n  wco  Tltard.  ^==~  But  the  black  -  billed 

I  (j)  r  I*  I*  I*  P  P  r  <»  r  <»  r  f  I  cuckoo  does  not  confine 

Cu£-uc-uc-uc-oo-oo  co  -o  ca-o  co-a!  himself  to  exactly  this  ar- 
rangement of  his  two  notes.  Sometimes  he  sings  thus  : 

It  is  also  not  quite  fair  to 


r  ¥  /   /__/    /=pb:      liken  him  to  a  noisy  drum- 


Cuc-uc-ac  cacJt-oocutk-oo! 

onant  than  that  of  the  tubby  kettledrum,  and  as  a 
musician  he  is  the  soul  of  accuracy  in  his  musical 
thirds  and  fourths.  But  the  mention  of  this  reminds 
me  of  the  musical  attempts  of  the  crow.  I  wonder 
how  many  of  us  have  caught  the  crow  in  the  act  of 
coughing  up  a  number  of  musical  tones  !  It  is  the 
most  absurd  performance  in  all  the  category  of  wild 
music.  The  crow  when  he  sings  is  nothing  short  of 
a  clown.  He  ruffles  his  feathers,  stretches  his  neck 
like  a  cat  with  a  fishbone  in  her  throat,  and  with  a 
most  tremendous  effort  delivers  a  series  of  henlike 
squawks  double  fortissimo,  thus  : 


What  he  means  by  the  call     "          J 


it  is  difficult  to  say,  unless  it  has    * 
some  connection  with  the  general 


86       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


is  sure  to  be  in  full  session  at  no  great  distance  down 
in  the  copse  on  the  meadow  border.     But  the  crow 

is  not  unmusical  after  all. 
His  "caw"  is  a  note 
of  decisive  emphasis 
which  can  not  be  justly 
slighted  in  the  grand 
orchestra  of  Nature.  The 
tone  of  it  has  that  wood- 
en, reedlike  quality  which 
is  best  represented  by  the  oboe, 
an  instrument  of  a  singularly  pastoral 
nature.  Haydn  fully  appreciated  this 
fact,  and  in  his  oratorio  of  The  Seasons 
gave  it  a  very  prominent  position  not 
only  in  a  fine  adagio,  but  in  a  long 
The  musical  Crow,  solo  imitating  the  crowing  of  a  rooster. 
Notice  how  nicely  the  notes  follow 
the  last  part  of  the  "  crow "  by  sliding  down  the 
chromatic  scale. 
Here  is  a  case 
where  a  great 
musician  followed  the  suggestion  of  Nature  very 
closely ;  and  I  could  enumerate  several  others  in 
which  Nature's  intention  was  most  admirably  carried 
out.  However,  I  can  only  record  one  extreme  in- 
stance, which  is  as  pathetic  as  it  is  interesting ;  and 


THE   YELLOWHAMMER. 
COLAPTES   AURATUS. 

"On  the  wooded  border  of  a  meadow." 


ACCOMPLISHED  VOCALISTS.  87 

whenever  I  hear  the  golden-winged  woodpecker's 
(yellow-hammer's)  nasal  and  monotonous  voice,  I  re- 
member how  much  Beethoven  made  of  it  in  his  Pas- 
toral Symphony.  In  the  summer  of  1823,  long  after 
the  great  composer  had  become  "  stone  deaf,"  he  was 
walking  with  his  friend  Schindler  on  the  wooded 
border  of  a  meadow  not  far  from  Vienna.  "  Seating 
himself  on  the  grass,"  says  Schindler,  "  and  leaning 
against  an  elm,  Beethoven  asked  me  if  any  yellow- 
hammers  were  to  be  heard  in  the  tree  above  us. 
But  all  was  still.  He  then  said,  'This  is  where  I 
wrote  The  Scene  by  the  Brook,*  while  the  yellow- 
hammers  were  singing  above  me,  and  the  quails, 
nightingales,  and  cuckoos  calling  all  around.'  I 
asked  why  the  yellow-hammer  did  not  appear  in 
the  movement  with  the  others;  on  which  he  seized 
his  sketchbook  and  wrote  the  following  phrase : 
4  There's  the  little  composer,'  said 
he,  '  and  you'll  find  that  he  plays 
a  more  important  part  than  the 
others,  for  they  were  nothing  but  a  joke.' ': 

Well,  the  power  of  a  musician's  imagination  to 
transmute  a  few  tones  is  illimitable,  for  the  notes 
above  are  not  those  of  the  yellow-hammer  at  all. 
But,  as  I  have  already  intimated,  imagination  is  neces- 

*  Die  Scene  am  Bach,  the  second  movement  of  the  sixth  (Pas- 
toral) symphony. 


88       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

sary  on  the  part  of  the  hearer  to  understand  the  mu- 
sical drift  of  Nature.  So  Beethoven  gives  his  imag- 
ination full  play,  and  constructs  a  part  of  his  sym- 
phony not  from  the  yellow-hammer's  monotonous 
"kee-er,  kee-er"  alone,  ___ 

^rfY       jf      Cr^y*  -~--^^  -^-  r*~**^     ^t 

but  from  the  association  hfy  fffffff  f~  f  if  : 
of  these  vigorous  tones 

with  the  milder  ascending  tones  of  still  another  bird 
— the  nightingale,  perhaps. 

To  my  mind  Beethoven's  six  notes  and  others 
like  them  of  constant  recurrence  in  The  Scene  by 
the  Brook  are  remarkably  suggestive  of  the  hermit 
thrush  (Turdus  aonalaschkce  pallasii},  our  most 
gifted  American  songster — the  prima  donna  of  the 
orchestra.  The  notes  of  this  bird  always  fly  upward 
with  bounding  emphasis  to  some  extremely  high  point, 
and  after  a  short  interval  these  three  very  high  notes 
succeed,  followed  by  a  whispered  "wee- 
^J.  chee-weechee "  too  attenuated  for  me  to 
I/.  t  record  by  musical  signs. 

•'  Much  has  been  written  about  the  music 

of  the  hermit  thrush,  but  I  have  found  nothing  which 
treats  the  bird  with  justice  except  the  remarkably 
faithful  records  jotted  down  by  Mr.  Simeon  Pease 
Cheney.*  It  is  almost  exclusively  to  this  gifted  mu- 

*  Author  of  Wood  Notes  Wild ;  he  died  May  10th,  1890. 


ACCOMPLISHED  VOCALISTS. 


89 


sician,  who  has  lived  among  the  birds  in  the  green 
hills  of  Vermont,  that  we  are  indebted  for  any  scien- 
tific knowledge  of  bird  music. 

In  a  previous  volume  *  I  have  devoted  some  at- 
tention to  the  songs  of  the  thrushes,  and  have  given 
a  song  of  the  hermit  thrush  which  is  almost  identical 
with  one  reported  by  Mr.  Cheney.  It  is  character- 
ized by  thirds  and  triplets.  Here  is  a  portion  of  it : 


He  can  do  even 
sides  a  num- 
clear      sil- 
subdued, 


But  this  is  only  one  phase,  although  a  very  common 

one,  of  the  hermit's  music. 

better  than  that,  and  be- 

ber  of  most  extraordinarily 

very  whistles,  he  gives  us  a 

reedlike  series  of  pianissimo 

tones  which  I  can  only  liken 

to  those  of  a 

harmonicon. 

It   is   very 

likely  that  this  peculiar  na- 
ture of  these  pianissimo  notes — 
they  can  not  be  heard  more  than 
forty   feet    away  —  suggested   to      The  Hermit  Thrush. 


*£& 


*  Familiar  Features  of  the  Roadside. 


90       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

Burroughs  the  hymnlike  quality  of  the  hermit's  song 
which  he  so  often  mentions.  I  must  quote  what  he 
says :  "  A  strain  has  reached  my  ears  from  out  the 
depths  of  the  forest  that  to  me  is  the  finest  sound  in 
nature — the  song  of  the  hermit  thrush.  ...  It  ap- 
peals to  the  sentiment  of  the  beautiful  in  me,  and 
suggests  a  serene  religious  beatitude  as  no  other 
sound  in  nature  does.  It  is  perhaps  more  of  an 
evening  than  a  morning  hymn,  though  I  hear  it  at 
all  hours  of  the  day.  It  is  very  simple,  and  I  can 
hardly  tell  the  secret  of  its  charm.  '  O  spheral, 
spheral ! '  he  seems  to  say ;  '  O  holy,  holy !  O  clear 
away,  O  clear  away ! '  interspersed  with  the  finest 
trills  and  the  most  delicate  preludes." 

But  this  is  the  sentiment  of  the  song ;  what  of  the 
song  itself  ?  That  I  can  only  describe  with  musical 
annotations.  There  is  first  a  prolonged  tone,  prob- 
ably A ;  this  is  succeeded  by  another  shorter  one  a 
third  above,  another  a  fifth  above,  and  still  another 
an  octave  above  the  A.  Interspersed  are  several  very 
short  notes,  which  are  undoubtedly  some  of  Bur- 
roughs's  "  fine  trills  and  delicate  preludes."  Here  is 
the  music:  n^A  ^^  ,^  -I»--^N  -^u*  we  w^ 
notice  that  \&\*  /)  jf  f  j  ^  ^[)|  the  song  does 
not  end  with  the  high 

note;  there  are  still  three  more  which  glide  down- 
ward, finishing  at  the  original  A  ;  these  have  that 


ACCOMPLISHED   VOCALISTS. 


91 


harmonicon  quality  of  which  I  have  spoken.  So 
pronounced  is  this  final  harmonic  tone  that  it  might 
well  be  expressed  thus :  (\^f\ ^] 

'Now,  this  is  but  one  [  A^xf  *p    of     six    musical 
phrases  which  a  single  5^   bird  sang.     An- 

other, but  a  less  gifted  musician,  sang  a  similar  phrase. 
^_£  But,  of  all  the  singers,  not  one, 
however  clear  -  voiced,  equaled 
in  dexterity  and  precision  the 
bird  I  heard  last  summer,  which  sang  the  following : 

The    distinctness    and 
rapidity  of  the  last  six 


short  notes  was  simply 
phenomenal ;  they  furnished  a  fitting  cadenza  to  a 
long  song  of  certainly  eight  or  nine  passages  not  one 
of  which  was  like  an-  .•„  other.  After 


the  bird  finished 
maple  tree 


his  solo — in  a 
not     ten     yards 
from  where   I  sat 
— he  fluttered  silent- 
ly  away    to    a    neigh- 
boring  brook  to   "  wet  his 
whistle." 

Wholly  unlike  the  her- 
mit's music  is  that  of  the  skulking  veery  (Turdus 
fuscescens\  who  haunts  the  shrubbery  by  the  river's 
brink,  and  leaves  the  hillside  grove  entirely  to  his 


The  Veery. 


92       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


more  accomplished  musician  cousin.  Still,  the  veery's 
song  is  the  most  romantic  and  suggestive  one  of  the 
twilight  hour  in  spring.  His  notes  are  characterized 
by  a  reedlike  quality,  which  I  will  liken  again  to  the 
tones  of  a  harmonicon.  No  other  bird  has  a  voice 
like  his ;  it  can  best  be  imitated  by  humming  a  low 
tone  and  whistling  a  high  one ;  and  it  sounds  as 
though  the  little  owner  was  being  swung  in  four  suc- 
cessive circles  through  the  air.  Somebody  has  com- 
pared its  character  to  that  of  a  spiral  line.  Notice 
after  the  preliminary  grace  notes  the  unbroken  flow 
of  the  four  clusters  which  follow  : 


No  hermit  could  do  that  sort  of  thing  as  well ;  he 
would  not  have  breath  enough.  But  there  is  also 
another  than  spiral  effect  to  this  musician's  song. 
Sometimes  a  rare  individual  sings  whose  sonorous 
tones  vibrate  be- 
tween thirds  and 
fifths,  thus: 

And  in  a  chorus  of  veeries  such  as  I  heard  last  spring 
his  notes  stand  out  by  contrast  with  the  others  in  a 
most  refreshing  way ;  let  one's  ear  be  never  so  subtle 
at  following  a  musical  cadence,  it  can  not  be  quick 
enough  to  catch  the  full  beauty  of  the  last  notes  of 


ACCOMPLISHED   VOCALISTS.  93 

this  eccentric  singer ;  they  must  be  heard  over  and 
over  again  to  be  remembered.  They  remind  one  of 
the  weird  effect  of  an  seolian  harp  or  a  singing  tele- 
graph pole,*  but  they  are  twice  as  mysterious. 

But  the  most  mysterious  singer  of  the  woodland 
is  the  chipper  and  restless  little  redstart  (Setophaga 
ruticilla),  whose  jet  -  black 
head  and  orange  shoul- 
ders are  continually 
perking  out  from  the 
bordering  green  of  the 
highway,  and  surprising  one 

J '  The  Redstart. 

by  a  sudden  and   transient 

glimpse  of  bright  color.  This  little  fellow  does  not 
perch  on  the  tree-top  like  the  indigo  bird  and  the 
song  sparrow  when  he  sings ;  he  evades  the  public 
eye,  and  chirrups  on  the  other  side  of  the  tree  from 
the  inquisitive  observer.  His  song,  much  more 
sprightly  than  that  of  the  veery,  and  much  less  seri- 
ous, runs  thus :  8VA  ^^  ^rz.  ^-^.  -^e  ^s  ever 

for  an  in- 
hesitates  to 


on 


8VA  ^  ^      ^  —  ^    ^ 
the     alert    j  #v    f  f'C  LET  E  £f 

4  (A)     '  r        "         r      —  J 

V    Che-^e  tne-we-we-wecne-weo 


and  never 

cut  his  song  short  when  a  tempting  mouthful  meets 
his  eye   in  the   shape  of  some  "crawly  bug"  on  a 

*  In  extremely  cold  weather,  if  one's  ear  is  placed  against  the 
telegraph  pole  one  will  hear  a  remarkable  harmonic  vibration  of 
the  wires,  like  that  of  an  aeolian  harp. 


94       FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


leaf  near  by.  The  "  ching  a-wee,  cher-wee,  wee —  !  " 
quite  as  often  ends  abruptly  as  otherwise,  and  there 
is  one  less  insect  in  the  shrubbery. 

A  still  more  mysterious  singer  in  the  wildwood, 
one  who  sings  along  with  the  hermit  thrush  and 
ever  evaded  my  watchful  eyes, 
wood  pewee  (Contopus  virenq). 
I  have  seen  fifty  thrushes  to  one 
pewee,  and  yet  have  heard  both 
singing  at  the  same  time  and  in 
the  same  wood.  At  last,  in  the 
past  season,  I  saw  the  pewee :  a 
plainly  attired  little  creature,  with 
rusty  black  back  and  gray-white 
breast.  There  he  was,  on  a  sprig  of  the  gray  birch, 
calling  his  mate,  as  usual,  with  "  Sally,  come  here ! 


The  Wood 
Pewee. 


H- 


e- 


but  musically, 
thus : 


SFf 


Here! 


•Sally  come  here 

It  is  the  most  musical  of  calls,  full  of  suggestive- 
ness,  and  quite  as  much  a  part  of  the  spring  orchestra 
as  the  peep  of  the  Hyla.  But  the  most  remarkable 
part  of  it  is  the  long-drawn-out  "H-e-r-e!"  which 
might  just  as  well  be  translated  "  Whi-e-e-eu !  "  It  is 
a  whistle  rapidly  descending  the  scale,  precisely  like 
the  whistle  of  painful  surprise  one  makes  when  one's 
"  best  corn "  is  trodden  on.  In  the  case  of  the  bird 


ACCOMPLISHED  VOCALISTS.  95 

the  prolonged  note  of  surprise  is,  I  am  always  think- 
ing, an  indication  of  his  unbounded  amazement  at 
the  unnecessary  delay  in  obeying  his  peremptory 
summons.  He  keeps  up  this  whistling  for  his  wife 
all  summer  long ;  the  only  answer  he  seems  to  get 
comes  from  the  borders  of  a  neighboring  field.  It  is 
the  call  of  the  chickadee : 


Pe-wee.  FiddVde  de. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

STRANGE  CREATURES  WITH   STRANGE  VOICES. 
The  Bittern,  Owl,  Loon,  etc. 

A  STRANGE  sound  comes  from  the  meadow  swamp 
down  by  the  pond — "  G-chug,  g-chug,  g-chug.  It  is 
the  uncanny  voice  of  the  bittern  or  stake-driver  (Bo- 
taurus  lentiginosus\  and  if  we  could  see  him  making 
the  noise  we  would  exclaim  at  once,  "That  bird  is 
beastly  ill ! "  Such  a  remarkable  performance  one 
never  witnessed ;  the  distressing  musical  attempt  of 
the  crow  recorded  in  the  preceding  chapter  is  not  a 
circumstance  to  this  convulsive  proceeding  of  the  bit- 
tern. He  "  hiccoughs  "  wildly  several  times,  and  then 
is  apparently  seized  with  a  most  violent  fit  of  nausea, 
producing  with  each  convulsion  a  hollow  "  booming  " 
noise  which  on  most  occasions  sounds  like  somebody 
driving  a  stake  in  the  ground.  This  charming  music 
I  suppose  the  naturalist  would  call  the  love-song  of 
the  bird ;  it  is  certainly  most  common  in  April,  and 
its  continuance  for  half  an  hour  or  more  is  perhaps 

accounted  for  by  the  indifference  of  the  female,  who 
96 


STRANGE  CREATURES  WITH  STRANGE  VOICES.     97 

possibly  considers  the  noise  too  unattractive  for  a 
prompt  response.  Indeed,  it  is  on  record  that  the 
bird  has  "  pumped  "  for  an  hour.  The  sucking  sound 
of  a  pump,  I  might  explain,  is  considered  by  some 
the  nearest  -approach  to  this  strange  creature's  un- 
musical notes. 

If  we  are  near  enough  to  the  swamp  where  the 
bittern  stands,  we  will  see  a  bird,  about  twenty-four 
inches  high,  with  a  slate-gray  head  and  neck — the 
latter  black-streaked — and  a  brown  back,  standing 

'  O 

upright  and  motionless.  It  really  takes  quite  a  sharp 
eye  to  separate  the  bird  from  his  surroundings. 
When  he  moves,  his  deliberate  and  stealthy  steps  are 
hardly  perceptible ;  but  as  soon  as  he  opens  his  bill 
to  speak  his  strange  actions  attract  our  notice  and 
enlist  our  sympathy. 

His  crop  is  seemingly  distended  with  air  which  he 
has  swallowed  in  a  most  noisy  fashion ;  every  time  he 
takes  a  gulp  of  it  the  head  is  thrown  upward  and  then 
forward,  the  body  is  violently  convulsed,  and,  with 
every  feather  puffed  out,  one  imagines  the  wretched 
creature  is  at  his  last  gasp  with  a  torturing  fishbone 
in  his  throat. 

But  no ;  he  is  only  singing  his  chant  d'amour,  or 
amusing  himself  with  a  bit  of  everyday  vocal  ath- 
letics. Mr.  William  Brewster,  of  Cambridge,  de- 
scribes the  sound  as  a  trisyllabic  one,  thus :  Pump-er- 
8 


98        FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

lunk,  pump-er-lunk,  etc.     Evidently  his  bird  was  a 

"pumper";  but  all   the  bitterns  that  I  have  heard 

were    "stake-drivers,"    and    sang    thus, 

the   second   syllable    closely   resembling  [  sy.  j|»  j^ 

the  resounding  thwack  of  a  woodman's 

axe   as  it  drives   some   stout   stake   in   the   ground. 

The  bird  begins  operations  by  raising  his  head  and 
stretching  his  neck  until  the  bill  is  pointed  up  in  the 
air ;  then  with  three  or  four  preliminary  snaps  of  the 
bill,  which  can  be  heard  fully  five  hundred  feet  away, 
oif  he  goes  on  his  g-chug,  g-chug,  g-chug,  g-chug, 
from  four  to  eight  times,  when  he  tires  of  it  and  takes 
a  minute  to  rest ;  then — da  capo. 

Thoreau  alludes  to  this  remarkable  bird  thus : 
"  The  stake-driver  is  at  it  again  on  his  favorite 
meadow.  I  followed  the  sound  and  at  last  got  within 
two  rods.  When  thus  near,  I  heard  some  lower 
sounds  at  the  beginning  like  striking  on  a  stump,  or  a 
stake,  a  dry,  hard  sound,  and  then  followed  the  gur- 
gling, pumping  notes.  ...  I  went  to  the  place,  but 
could  see  no  water."  It  seems  Thoreau,  like  a  good 
many  others,  imagined  that  the  bird  made  the  noise 
with  the  help  of  water — by  partly  submerging  his 
bill.  But  all  who  know  the  stake-driver  and  his 
strange  performance  now  agree  that  water  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  case. 

I   have   heard   and    seen   the   bird   on   the  river 


THE   BITTERN. 
BOTA'URUS   LENTIGINOSUS. 

"The  stake-driver  is  at  it  again  on 
his  favorite  meadow." 


STRANGE  CREATURES  WITH  STRANGE  VOICES.     99 


meadows  of  Grafton  County,  N.  H.,  and  I  know  that 
lie  makes  the  noise  when  there  is  not  a  bit  of  water 
in  his  vicinity.  Bradford 
Torrey  records  a  most  inter- 
esting performance  of  a  bit- 
tern which  he  witnessed  in 
company  with  Mr.  Walter 
Faxon,*  and  he  declares  that 
the  bird  was  perched  on 
the  dry  remnants  of  an  old 
haystack.  He  furthermore 
says  the  sounds  are  not  en- 
tirely caused  by  an  exertion 
of  the  vocal  organs,  but  are 
connected  in  some  way  with 
the  distention  of  the  crop 
and  the  drawing  in  of  the 
breath,  not  the  throwing  of 
it  out  after  the  crop  is  full. 

In  the  dim  twilight  suc- 
ceeding a  warm  day  in  spring 
another  strange  but  familiar  note  comes  across  the 
meadow  from  the  edge  of  the  bordering  wood,  and 
we  recognize  at  once  the  hoot  of  an  owl.  It  is  a 
barytone  note,  and  from  its  depth  and  freedom  from 


The  Great  Horned  Owl. 


The  Auk,  vol.  vi,  p.  1. 


100     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

a  quivering,  weird  quality  (familiar  in  the  screech- 
owl's  notes),  we  can  be  sure  it  comes  from  one  of  the 
larger  owls.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  voice  of  the  great 
horned  owl  (Bulo  virginianus),  a  big,  brown-and- 
ocher-colored  bird,  mottled  with  black,  and  remark- 
able for  his  tufted  ears,  the  conspicuous  feathers  on 
which  stand  out  fully  two  inches  beyond  the  contour 
of  his  head. 

Mr.  Frank  M.  Chapman  calls  this  owl,  just  as 
many  another  ornithologist  does,  "a  tiger  among 
birds."  The  creature  is  a  terror  to  small  birds,  poul- 
try, squirrels,  mice,  and  rabbits.  But  he  is  not  quite 
so  destructive  to  the  inmates  of  the  henhouse  as  he  is 
made  out  to  be.  On  the  average,  not  more  than  one 
owl  in  four  steals  a  chicken ;  all  the  others  feed  on 
mice,  moles,  and  other  such  harmful  creatures  which 
live  on  the  farm. 

One  of  the  first  voices  of  spring  is  that  of  the 
horned  owl ;  it  is  not  a  cheerful  one,  but  it  is  a  pre- 
sage of  warm  days  to  come,  and  is  therefore  welcome. 

Here  are  the  notes  of  an  owl       . 

I  heard  hooting  in  May  last :    [(fy^J    J  ,     / 

|_i^       pj|       u, 


There  is   but   one  domi-  "MOO,  oo,     o^     oo^ 

nant  tone  to  the  song ;  my  grace-notes,  of  course, 
only  indicating  a  certain  modulation  of  the  voice,  do 
not  indicate  a  second  tone.  One  of  the  most  extreme 
instances  of  modulation  in  a  bird's  voice  is  mani- 


STRANGE  CREATURES  WITH  STRANGE  VOICES.  101 

fested  in  that  of  the  loon  (TTrinator  imber\  whose 
sliding  note  resembles  that  outrageous  invention 
called  a  "siren"  whistle,  which  one  may  hear  any 
time  in  the  harbor  of  New  York.  I  do  not  mean  to 
imply  by  this  comparison  that  the  loon  when  he  calls 
sprawls  all  over  the  chromatic  scale,  as  the  above- 
mentioned  whistle  does ;  he  does  not ;  the  screech 
owl  comes  far  nearer  that  sort  of  thing.  But  the 
loon  does  modulate  his  "  O-ho-oo  !  "  /  , 


in  a  wild,  fortissimo  way  so  nearly  like    YjL     p 

the  "siren"  that  the  comparison,  to  my  Yo 

mind,  is  a  very  natural  one.     Mr.  Cheney's  render- 
ing of   the  three    notes   is   different ;  „ 

n   u.    «  //•&-    _ 

but  all  birds  do  not  sing  alike. 

I  quote  what  Mr.  J.  H.  Langille 
says  of  the  loon's  voice.  "  Beginning  on  the  fifth 
note  of  the  scale,  the  voice  slides  through  the  eighth 
to  the  third  of  the  scale  above  in  loud,  clear,  sonorous 
tones,  which  on  a  dismal  evening  before  a  thunder- 
storm— the  lightning  already  playing  along  the  inky 
sky — are  anything  but  musical."  Here  they  are  : 
f  "  He  has  also  another  but  rather  soft  and 
pleasing  utterance,  sounding  like  'Who- 
who-who-who,'  the  syllables  being  so 
rapidly  pronounced  as  to  sound  almost  like  a  shake  of 
the  voice — a  sort  of  weird  laughter." 

This  last  calmer  but  still  strong  cry  is  usually  ut- 


Hoo-OO-O-O'O  hOO-OO-O-O-0    OO-O-O-O, 


102     FAMILIAR  LIFE   IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

tered  while  the  bird  is  on  the  wing ;  it  runs  thus : 

Many  years  ago  the  weird 
song  was  a  very  familiar 
one  to  me  at  the  twilight 
hour  in  the  wilderness  of  the  Adirondacks.  I  do  not 
know  whether  the  loon  to-day  frequents  the  lakes, 
which  thirty  years  ago  were  his  favorite  haunts ;  I 
do  not  think  he  does.  The  changes  in  the  woods  are 
radical,  and  civilization  has  introduced  numberless 
fashionable  and  elaborate  "  camps,"  which  prove 
most  conclusively  that  there  is  less  venison,  trout, 
and  loon  music  there  than  there  used  to  be  in  the 
"  sixties." 

The  loon  is  a  retiring  character,  who  avoids  all 
contact  with  the  civilized  world  and  lives  in  the  se- 
clusion of  the  wilderness.  In  1887  Mr.  Simeon  Pease 
Cheney  found  ample  opportunity  to  study  the  loon  at 
Trout  Lake,  St.  Lawrence  County,  N.  Y.,  about 
twenty-five  miles  northwest  of  Paul  Smith's.  Ac- 
cording to  his  account,  the  nest  of  a  certain  loon  he 
saw  was  simply  a  cavity  in  some  dry  muck  on  the 
ruins  of  an  old  nraskrat  house.  The  female,  he  ex- 
plains, shoved  herself  on  it  very  much  as  she  pushed 
herself  into  the  water,  and  did  not,  as  Wilson  says, 
approach  it  on  the  wing  by  darting  obliquely  and 
falling  securely  in  it.  Loons  never  lay  more  than 
two  grayish,  olive-brown  eggs  speckled  with  black, 


STRANGE  CREATURES  WITH  STRANGE  VOICES.  103 


and  these  are  nearly  as  large  (three  and  a  half  inches 
long)  as  those  of  a  goose. 

The  loon  is  a  big  bird,  anywhere  from  twenty 
to  thirty-two  inches  long  from  bill  to  tail,  and  so 
characteristically 
aquatic 
that  he 

is  absolutely  helpless 
and  clumsy  on  land  ; 
the  legs  are  too  far 
back  to  be  of  any 
service  in  walking, 
and  when   on   the 
shores  of  a  lake  he 
shoves  himself  for- 
ward   partly   on    his 
breast.    I  have  heard 
sportsmen  say  that  it         ^S 
was   next  to   impos- 
sible   to    shoot    one     • 
of  the  creatures ;  he 
must    be    struck    in 

the  head  or  not  at  all,  as  the  feathers  on  the  body 
are  so  thick  and  close  that  the  shot  is  effectually 
checked  by  them  ;  besides  that,  as  an  escaping  diver 
the  bird  is  without  an  equal.  He  disappears  upon 
the  slightest  provocation,  swims  under  the  water  an 


The  Loon. 


104     FAMILIAR  LIFE. IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

extraordinary  distance,  and  reappears  far  away,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  lake,  perhaps,  quite  out  of  gun- 
shot. The  following  is  Mr.  Cheney's  description  of 
an  alarmed  loon's  method  of  progression  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  water :  "  Suddenly  there  was  a  furious 
dashing  and  splashing  just  behind  us,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment more  one  of  them  rushed  by  very  near  us,  both 
flying  and  swimming,  with  wings  in  the  air  and  feet 
in  the  water.  He  swept  by  us  with  a  noise  like  a 
steamboat,  but  no  boat  could  equal  his  speed.  At 
every  stroke  of  his  wings  he  smote  the  water  as  well 
as  the  air." 

Bat  aquatic  birds  are  always  a  source  of  surprise 
to  us  when  we  see  the  rapidity  of  their  progression 
through  the  water.  Last  June,  when  the  Pernige- 
wasset  River,  New  Hampshire,  had  swollen  to  an 
enormous  and  resistless  flood  after  a  long  rain,  and  I 
was  watching  the  seething  water  sweeping  beneath 
the  bridge  with  fearful  rapidity,  I  was  much  sur- 
prised to  witness  the  successful  efforts  of  a  red- 
breasted  sheldrake  (Merganser  serrator)  making  up- 
stream with  no  inconsiderable  amount  of  speed.  I 
shouted  and  clapped  my  hands,  and  the  bird,  taking 
immediate  alarm,  flapped  his  wings  and  shot  over  the 
surface  of  the  flying  water  like  an  express  train.  I 
calculated  at  the  time  he  was  making  fully  thirty 
miles  an  hour,  although  relatively  with  the  river  bank 


THE   PEMIGEWASSET   RIVER 
AT   BLAIR'S    BRIDGE,   AND 
THE   SHELDRAKE. 


MERGANSER    SERRATOR. 

"  He  slyly  proceeds 
up  stream." 


STRANGE  CREATURES  WITH  STRANGE  VOICES.  1Q5 

his  speed  did  not  count  for  so  much.  At  ordinary 
times,  when  the  river  is  low,  I  have  seen  this  wild 
duck  propel  himself  noisily  through  the  water  with  a 
rapidity  that  would  rival  the  best  effort  of  a  Harvard 
oarsman. 

On  being  alarmed  the  sheldrake  utters  a  melan- 
choly,  hoarse   "  quonk,"   usually   in   the  key   of  C. 
* His  voice  is  often  heard  late  in 

ly  J   J  j  J Jj  I     the  afternoon,  when  with  his  fel- 
w0*ew<*e.o^.c*p  lowg  he  shylv  proceeds  UpStream 

in  quest  of  the  little  fish  that  abound  in  the  river. 
He  pursues  and  captures  his  prey  under  the  water, 
and,  like  the  loon,  dives  upon  the  slightest  disturb- 
ance which  occurs  near  his  retreat. 

Merganser  serrator  is  a  red-breasted  sheldrake, 
whose  white-ringed  neck  and  broad  band  of  rust 
color  on  the  upper  breast,  black  streaked,  distinguish 
him  from  the  other  species,  Merganser  americanus, 
whose  breast  is  white  tinged  with  salmon. 

A  group  of  sheldrakes  on  a  quiet  bit  of  the  river 
is  an  interesting  gathering  to  stir  up.  Occasionally 
one  or  two  individuals  make  some  passing  remark 
— probably  on  the  possible  presence  of  an  observer  in 
the  vicinity.  The  ducks  keep  a  sharp  lookout  both 
for  fish  and  men  ;  suddenly  some  one  springs  out  of 
the  neighboring  thicket  with  an  abrupt  shouting  and 
clapping  of  hands  ;  instantly  the  river  in  the  vicinity 


106     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

of  the  ducks  is  a  scene  of  wildest  turmoil  and  con- 
fusion, the  ducks  flee,  and  the  water  is  rapidly 
churned  up  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  downstream.  In 
less  than  a  minute  after  all  is  quiet  again,  and  no  one 
would  think  there  was  a  duck  within  a  hundred  miles 
of  the  spot. 

So  we  turn  from  the  lonesome  river  brink  and 
direct  our  footsteps  to  the  wood  on  the  hillside ; 
hardly  have  we  stepped  within  its  shade  when  there 
is  the  greatest  commotion  among  the  ferns  and  the 
dead  leaves,  where  a  hen  and  her  chickens  have  been 
hiding ;  they  scatter  in  all  directions.  But  it  was  a 
partridge  hen,  and  she  has  as  much  trouble  in  collect- 
ing her  faculties  as  her  "  chicks,"  for  we  can  still  hear 
her  excited,  nervous  clucks  in  the  distance.  I  once 
came  upon  such  a  brood  so  suddenly  and  noiselessly 
that  one  of  the  little  things  was  nearly  beneath  my  foot 
before  my  intrusion  was  discovered.  With  an  experi- 
mental turn  of  mind  I  immediately  began  to  chirp 
like  a  lost  chicken,  and  in  an  instant  the  distracted 
mother  came  tearing  back  to  the  rescue ;  for  a  few 
moments  she  stood  directly  before  me  in  the  most 
anxious  attitude,  and,  making  the  most  distressful 
clucks  and  cries,  tried  to  regain  her  lost  chick.  But 
she  was  shortly  convinced  that  I  was  a  base  deceiver, 
and  left  as  hurriedly  as  she  came. 

The  partridge  (Bonasa  umbellus)  is  responsible 


STRANGE  CREATURES  WITH  STRANGE  VOICES.  1Q7 


for  some  of  the  strangest  noises  that  break  the  still- 
ness of  the  mountain  forest.  The  female  is  always 
clucking  and  quirping  on  the  approach  of  an  intrud- 
ing footstep,  and  she  never  ^^,  seems  to  discov- 
er it  until  it  is  within  ,^ff^^  a  couple  of 


yards  of  her  re- 
imagine, 
circum- 


The  Partridge. 


treat.   I  should 
not  only  from  this 
stance  but  from  the 
fact    that    the    male 
bird  makes  such  a  rum- 
pus  in    spring    when   he 
calls  his  mate,  that  she  is  a 
bit  deaf.     One  almost  treads 
upon  the  tail  of  a  partridge 

before  it  occurs  to  the  creature  to  get  out  of  the 
way  ;  then  there  is  a  fearful  whir-r-r-r-r,  violent 
and  startling  enough  to  set  one's  heart  beating,  and 
the  bird  is  gone,  not,  however,  without  making  the 
following  vocal  exclamation,  sf*\>?  rTTT^ 

whistled  in  a  variety  of  tones   \jL    \     \  \  [  'T  f  * J ; 
as  shrill  and  explosive  as  some          whieu-whien-eu.-eu.-eu-eu! 
of  the  remarks  of  the  red  squirrel.     I  always  imagine 
the  bird  saying,  "  Why  in  thunder  didn't  you  say  you 
were  coming  ?  it's  a  shocking  surprise !  " 

But  this  chick- o' -the  woods  is  no  fool ;  he  knows 
he  can  make  noise  enough  to  rattle  the  sportsman, 
shake  his  nerves,  and  spoil  his  aim,  so  he  does  not 


108     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

hurry   himself    to   move   off.      His   mottled    brown 
colors  are  amply  protective,  and  if  he  "  lies  low  "  he 

can  save  himself 
the  trouble  of  an 
arduous  retreat  on 
the  wing.  Par- 
tridges do  not  care 

to  %  if  tneJ  can 
avoid  it.  Indeed,  a 

Wing  of  the  partridge. 

glance  at  my  draw- 
ing of  the  wing  shows  that  it  is  not  the  best  shape 
for  flying.  Compared  with  the  pigeon's  wing  *  it  is 
short  and  stumpy,  although  handsome. 

The  strangest  noise  the  partridge  makes  may  be 
heard  in  the  spring ;  then  the  male  bird  mounts  an  old 
stump  or  a  log  and  begins  his  u  crow "  in  the  usual 
way,  but  his  voice  is  silent.  He  beats  his  wings  ex- 
actly as  the  rooster  does,  but  with  an  expert's  ability, 
and  does  no  more.  Thump,  thump,  thump,  thump, 
thump,  thump,  th-ur-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r  ! 


Thump-ump-ump-ump-p  thr-r-r-r-r-r. 

The  tone  is  that  of  a  muffled  snare  drum.     He  is  un- 
questionably the  drummer  of  Nature's  orchestra. 

*  The  carrier  pigeon  has  been  known  to  fly  one  hundred  miles 
in  an  hour. 


STRANGE  CREATURES  WITH  STRANGE  VOICES.  109 

The  great  question  among  naturalists  has  always 
been  how  he  made  the  noise.  I  think  the  question 
has  not  long  since  been  answered  by  more  than  one 
observer,  and  one  of  the  best  of  these  answers  has 
come  from  Mr.  Cheney.  I  quote  what  he  says  :  "  It 
is  now  plainly  to  be  seen  that  the  performer  stood 
straight  up,  like  a  junk  bottle,  and  brought  his  wings 
in  front  of  him  with  quick,  strong  strokes,  smiting 
nothing  but  the  air,  not  even  his  '  own  proud  breast,' 
as  one  distinguished  observer  has  suggested.  .  .  . 
The  first  two  or  three  thumps  are  soft  and  compara- 
tively slow,  then  they  increase  rapidly  in  force  and 
frequency,  rushing  onward  into  a  furious  whir,  the 
whir  subsiding  in  a  swift  but  graduated  diminish. 
The  entire  power  of  the  partridge  must  be  thrown 
into  this  exercise.  His  appearance  immediately  after- 
ward affirms  it  as  strongly  as  does  the  volume  of 
sound,  for  he  drops  into  the  forlornest  of  attitudes, 
looking  as  if  he  would  never  move  again.  In  a  few 
minutes,  however — perhaps  five — he  begins  to  have 
nervous  motions  of  the  head ;  up,  up,  it  goes,  and  his 
body  with  it,  till  he  is  perfectly  erect — legs,  body, 
neck,  and  all.  Then  for  the  thunder  once  more." 

I  can  add  nothing  to  this  perfect  description  of 
the  performance.  The  noise  is  made,  just  as  has  been 
stated,  by  the  wings  beating  the  air  with  furious  ra- 
pidity. There  should  be  no  doubt  whatever  about 


HO      FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

that,  and  all  I  need  to  produce  a  convincing  proof  of 
the  fact  is  a  machine  that  will  vibrate  a  pair  of  wings, 
which  I  have  before  me  as  I  write,  at  the  rate  of  five 
hundred  times  a  minute.  Hollow  the  hands  and  then 
clap  them  rapidly  together  a  number  of  times,  and  a 
somewhat  similar  sound  will  be  produced,  which  will 
show  how  much  the  air  has  to  do  with  the  case. 

The  food  of  the  partridge  consists  of  berries, 
seeds,  buds,  catkins,  insects,  and  wild  fruit.  In  the 
autumn  he  will  occasionally  visit  the  orchard,  and  I 
have  often  discovered  him  beneath  some  wild  apple 
tree  in  a  copse  by  the  river  picking  at  the  fallen  fruit. 
In  winter  the  bird  still  finds  ample  nourishment 
in  the  wild  woods  of  the  northern  mountains,  and 
what  with  wintergreen  (Gauliheria  procumbens),  his 
own  berry — partridge  berry  (Mitchella  repens) 
— creeping  snowberry  (Chiogenes  serpylli- 
folia\  and  an  abundance  of  evergreen 
leaves,  he  is  far  from  starving;  all 
these  he  gets  by  scratching  and 
burrowing  in  the  snow.  But  it  is 
undoubtedly  the  case  that  many  a 
young  bird  perishes  with  its  first  ex- 
perience of  the  winter's  severe  cold. 

In  the  Northern  woods  the  par- 
tridge will  burrow  to  the  interior  of  a  snowdrift  and 
pass  the  nights  of  intense  cold  there.      The  hardy 


STRANGE  CREATURES  WITH  STRANGE  VOICES, 

little  creature  is  also  provided  with  snowshoes,  a  curi- 
ous fringe  of  stout,  bristly  growths  arranged  along 
the  toes,  which  greatly  assist  him  in  walking  over  the 
snow.  This  growth  begins  to  show  itself  on  the  foot 
by  the  middle  of  October,  and  by  the  end  of  March 
it  has  completely  disappeared. 

The  flesh  of  the  partridge,  in  my  estimation,  is 
incomparably  superior  to  that  of  the  quail,  and  the 
amount  of  it  on  the  breast  of  a  plump  bird  is  sur- 
prising. A  bird  should  be  kept  in  the  ice  chest  at 
least  three  days  before  it  is  eaten. 


Partridge  berry. 


CHAPTEK  VII. 

FURRY  FRIENDS  WITH  FINE  SKINS. 
The  Wolverene,  Fisher,  and  Marten  or  Sable. 

IT  is  a  question  whether  we  are  justified  in  con- 
sidering the  strange  wolverene  a  furry  friend.  From 
one  point  of  view  he  is,  as  his  splendid  coat  furnishes 
us  with  one  of  the  finest  and  most  beautiful  furs  of 
the  country.  But  he  is  certainly  not  a  familiar  crea- 
ture among  the  northern  woods  in  these  days ;  long 
years  ago  he  was  practically  extinct  in  the  northeast- 
ern States.* 

Dr.  Clinton  Hart  Merriam  writes  that  several  were 
caught  at  Raquette  Lake,  in  the  Adirondacks,  as  late 
as  1842.  Elliott  Coues  mentions  the  fact  that  a  Dr. 
Z.  Thomson,  writing  in  1853,  states  that  the  animal 
was  then  extremely  rare  in  Vermont ;  and  Mr.  Allen 
asserts  that  as  late  as  1870  it  still  lingered  among 
the  Hoosac  hills  in  Massachusetts.  At  the  present 

*  His  most  southerly  range  is  about  latitude  42°  for  the  east- 
ern portion  of  the  continent. 
112 


FURRY  FRIENDS  WITH  FINE  SKINS.          H3 

day  all  the  skins  which  are  brought  into  the  market 
come  from  the  far  West  and  Northwest. 

But  we  can  not  afford  to  pass  the  wolverene,  or 
glutton,  as  he  is  sometimes  called  (G-ulo  luscus\  with 
only  a  nod  of  recognition  ;  he  is  entirely  too  in- 
teresting. His  Latin  name  means  "glutton,"  and 
his  record  in  literature  in  this  connection  is  quite 
unique.*  He  is  the  first  and  largest  if  not  the  most 
important  member  of  the  Mustelidce  family,  that 
splendid  furry  tribe  whose  skins  have  such  a  high 
market  value.  He  is  also  the  most  remarkable 
member  of  the  subfamily  Mustelines,  which  includes 
the  long-bodied,  short-legged  martens,  weasels,  ferret, 
and  mink.  The  skunk,  badger,  and  otter  are  his 
more  distant  relatives,  and  it  certainly  would  be 
inexcusably  partial  to  consider  these,  and  not  the 
wolverene. 

This  strange  animal  is  from  two  to  three  feet  long 
— less  than  that,  so  far  as  general  appearances  go — 
with  a  chunky  figure  like  that  of  a  bear's  cub.  His 
coat  is  shaggy  and  blackish  or  dark  brown,  with  light 

*  We  find  it  gravely  stated  that  this  brute  will  feast  upon  the 
carcass  of  some  large  animal  until  his  belly  is  swollen  as  tight  as 
a  drum,  and  then  get  rid  of  its  burden  by  squeezing  himself  be- 
tween two  trees,  in  order  that  it  may  return  to  glut  itself  anew — 
an  alleged  climax  of  gluttony  to  which  no  four-footed  beast  at- 
tains, and  for  the  parallel  of  which  we  must  refer  to  some  of  the 
most  noted  gormandizers  of  the  Roman  Empire. — Fur-bearing 
Animals.  Elliott  Coues. 


FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOEEST. 

chestnut  bands,  which  begin  at  either  shoulder,  ex- 
tend down  the  flanks,  and  meet  at  the  root  of  the 
tail ;  this  is  short,  bushy,  and  characterized  by  long 
drooping  hairs.  His  back  is  high  and  arched,  and 
his  head  and  tail  are  carried  low.  The  forehead  is 
a  light  gray  color,  and  beneath  the  throat  is  another 
patch  of  the  same  pale  tint.  The  head  is  broad  and 
rounded,  the  muzzle  pointed,  the  beadlike  eyes  are 
small,  and  the  rounded  ears  (well  furred  on  both 
sides)  are  set  low,  and  scarcely  extend  beyond  the 
fur  in  their  vicinity.  The  feet  are  large  and  black- 
ish, with  sharp,  curved,  whitish  claws  about  an  inch 
long. 

The  wolverene,  like  others  of  its  tribe,  possesses 
anal  glands  which  secrete  a  disgustingly  nauseous,  yel- 
low-brown fluid,  which  is  discharged  by  the  usual 
nipplelike  duct  terminations  situated  just  within  the 
anus;  the  odor  is  ten  times  as  bad  as  that  of  the 
skunk.  But  a  more  serious  characteristic  of  this  ani- 
mal is  his  propensity  to  steal  and  hide  things.  He 
annoys  the  Northern  trappers  by  upsetting  their 
traps,  stealing  the  bait,  and  sometimes  killing  and  de- 
vouring the  martens  which  are  caught. 

A  Mr.  Ross  relates  the  following :  "  An  instance 
occurred  within  my  own  knowledge  in  which  a  hunt- 
er and  his  family  having  left  their  lodge  unguarded 
during  their  absence,  on  their  return  found  it  com- 


THE   WOLVERENE. 
GULO  LUSCUS. 

"A  strange  animal  with  a  chunky  figure. 


FURRY  FRIENDS  WITH  FINE  SKINS.          H5 

pletely  gutted — the  walls  were  there,  but  nothing  else. 
Blankets,  guns,  kettles,  axes,  cans,  knives,  and  all  the 
other  paraphernalia  of  a  trapper's  tent  had  vanished, 
and  the  tracks  left  by  the  beast  showed  who  had  been 
the  thief.  The  family  set  to  work,  and  by  carefully 
following  up  all  his  paths,  recovered,  with  some  tri- 
fling exceptions,  the  whole  of  the  lost  property." 

The  most  extraordinary  habit  of  this  strange  ani- 
rnal  is  thus  recounted  by  Elliott  Coues :  "  We  need 
not  go  beyond  strict  facts  to  be  impressed  with  the 
wit  of  the  beast,  whom  all  concede  to  be  '  as  cunning  as 
the  very  devil.'  ...  It  is  said  that  if  one  only  stands 
still,  even  in  full  view  of  an  approaching  carcajou  " 
— the  Indian  name  for  the  wolverene — "  he  will  come 
within  fifty  or  sixty  yards,  provided  he  be  to  the 
windward,  before  he  takes  alarm.  .  .  .  On  these  and 
similar  occasions  he  has  a  singular  habit,  one  not 
shared,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  by  any  other  beast  what- 
ever :  he  sits  on  his  haunches  and  shades  his  eyes 
with  one  of  his  fore  paws,  just  as  a  human  being 
would  do  in  scrutinizing  a  distant  object.  The  carca- 
jou, then,  in  addition  to  his  other  and  varied  accom- 
plishments, is  a  perfect  skeptic,  to  use  this  word  in 
its  original  signification.  A  skeptic,  with  the  Greeks, 
was  simply  one  who  would  shade  his  eyes  to  see  more 
clearly. 

The  handsome  fur  of  the  wolverene  brings  a  high 


116     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

price  among  the  furriers,  the  finest  skins  being  valued 
at  four  dollars  and  the  coarser  ones  at  two  dollars. 
It  is  said  that  the  Indians  and  Esquimaux  use  the 
fur  for  fringing  their  garments,  as  they  do  that  of 
the  wolf,  the  skin  being  cut  into  strips  for  this  pur- 
pose. 

Another  member  of  the  Musteline®  tribe,  and  one 
which  approaches  the  long-bodied,  short-legged  form 
of  the  tribe  more  nearly  than  the  wolverene,  is  the 
fisher,  or  Pennant's  marten  (Mustela*  pennanti\ 
often  called  the  pecan,  and  rarely  the  black  cat  or 
black  fox.  There  are  two  American  species  of  mar- 
ten which  are  distinguished  apart  by  the  following 
characteristics,  according  to  Elliott  Coues  : 

Mustela  pennanti :  Length,  two  feet  or  more ; 
tail,  a  foot  or  more  ;  ears  low,  wide  and  semicircular  ; 
color  blackish,  lighter  on  fore  upper  parts  and  head  ; 
darkest  below  ;  no  light  throat  patch. 

Mustela  americana  :  Length,  less  than  two  feet ; 
tail,  less  than  a  foot  long  and  uniformly  bushy  ;  ears 
high,  subtriangular ;  color  brown,  etc.,  not  darker 
below  than  above  ;  usually  a  large  yellowish  or  tawny 
throat  patch. 

*  The  name  mustela  means  a  kind  of  weasel.  "  Its  adjective 
derivative,  mustelinus,  refers  primarily  to  general  weasellike  qual- 
ities, and  secondarily  to  the  peculiar  tawny  color  of  most  species 
of  weasels  in  summer.  For  example,  the  tawny  thrush  of  Wilson 
is  called  Turdus  mustelinus.'" — Elliott  Coues. 


FURRY  FRIENDS  WITH  FINE  SKINS. 

These  species  form  the  connecting  link  between 
the  wolverene  and  the  weasels,  which  is  somewhat 
evidenced  by  a  more  heavily  haired,  stouter  body 
than  that  of  the  sinuous  weasel,  and  a  slenderer  figure 
than  that  of  the  wolverene.  Of  the  two  martens  the 
fisher  is  by  far  the  largest,  as  may  be  seen  by  Dr. 
Coues's  description  above ;  indeed,  according  to  Dr. 
Merriam,  the  average  length  of  the  animal  is  three 
feet  and  a  half  from  nose  to  tip  of  tail. 


The  fisher. 


The  prey  of  the  fisher  is  mostly  mice,  squirrels, 
partridges,  small  birds,  frogs,  fish,  and  sometimes 
hares  and  even  raccoons.  Strangely  enough,  he  does 
not  hesitate  to  attack  the  well -armored  porcupine, 
which  he  kills  by  biting  in  the  belly — so  says  Sir 
John  Richardson.  But  I  copy  from  Dr.  Merriam's 
account  of  the  animal  the  indubitable  proofs  of  the 
fisher's  liking  for  porcupine  flesh,  and  whether  he  at- 
tacks the  porcupine  in  a  vulnerable  spot  or  not,  it  is 
perfectly  plain  he  does  not  have  an  easy  time  of  it. 
"  The  intestine  of  one  was  lined  with  rows  of  porcu- 


118     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

pine's  quills  arranged  like  papers  of  needles  through- 
out its  length,  but  they  did  not  penetrate  the  sides. 
Many  were  imbedded  in  the  neck  muscles,  and  in  the 
head,  chest,  back,  and  legs,  but  no  inflammation  was 
caused.  The  needles  were  about  two  and  a  half 
inches  long." 

The  fisher  is  an  inhabitant  of  the  wilderness,  and 
in  the  northern  woods  he  is  occasionally  seen  prowl- 
ing about  the  vicinity  of  lonesome  ponds  and  ever- 
green swamps.  Dr.  Merriam  states  that  the  fisher 
has  been  found  of  late  years  in  the  Adirondack 
woods,  and  to  my  certain  knowledge  he  still  exists  in 
the  secluded  forests  of  northern  New  Hampshire  and 
Maine.  Besides  the  few  furs  which  come  into  the 
market  from  the  northeastern  States,  there  are  a 
large  number  which  come  from  the  vicinity  of  Lake 
Superior,  Canada,  the  Northwest,  and  the  Pacific 
coast.  The  parallel  of  35°  is  considered  by  Elliott 
Coues  the  fisher's  southern  limit. 

The  name  of  the  animal  is  somewhat  misapplied, 
as  he  does  no  fishing  for  himself  unless  it  is  on  the 
borders  of  the  pond.  On  the  whole  the  fisher  is  most 
decidedly  arboreal ;  he  spends  a  great  deal  of  his 
time  exploring  the  trees  for  his  prey.  He  is  agile 
and  muscular  to  a  degree  almost  exceeding  the  ath- 
letic accomplishments  of  the  cat  tribe,  and  it  is  said 
that  he  can  make  a  descending  bound  of  forty  feet, 


FUKRY  FRIENDS  WITH  FINE  SKINS.          H9 

never  failing  at  the  end  to  secure  his  prey.  He  is, 
in  fact,  the  expert  climber  of  the  family  to  which  he 
belongs.  In  a  race  with  the  raccoon  the  latter' s 
heels  are  not  lively  enough  to  save  his  hide ;  the 
poor  coon  has  not  a  ghost  of  a  chance.  I  copy  what 


"  He  spends  a  great  deal  of 
his  time  exploring  the 
trees  for  his  prey." 

Mr.  Peter  Reid,  of  Washington  County,  New  York, 
has  said  long  years  ago  on  that  point :  "  While  hunt- 
ing early  one  winter  I  found  the  carcass  of  a  freshly 
killed  sheep,  and  by  the  tracks  around  it  in  the  light 
snow  perceived  that  a  fisher  had  surprised  a  raccoon 
at  the  feast.  A  hard  chase  had  ensued,  the  raccoon 
tacking  at  full  speed  to  avoid  his  pursuer,  the  fisher 
outrunning  and  continually  confronting  his  intended 


120     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

victim.  I  saw  where  at  length  the  fisher  had  made 
an  assault,  and  where  a  bloody  contest  had  evidently 
ensued.  The  raccoon,  worsted  in  the  encounter,  had 
again  broken  away  and  the  chase  was  resumed,  but 
with  diminished  energy  on  the  part  of  the  raccoon ; 
the  animal  had  been  soon  overtaken  again,  and  a  still 
more  desperate  encounter  had  taken  place.  The 
coon  had  failed  fast,  and  it  had  at  last  become  mere- 
ly a  running  fight,  when  both  animals  had  entered 
a  swamp  where  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  trace 
them  further ;  but  I  have  no  doubt  the  coon  was 
killed." 

It  is  said  that  the  nest  of  the  fisher  is  usually  in 
a  hollow,  standing  tree,  from  thirty  to  forty  feet 
from  the  ground.  The  female  bears  from  two  to 
four  young  ones  about  the  1st  of  May. 

The  fisher's  skin  was  evidently  not  very  valuable 
when  De  Kay  wrote,  in  1842,  thus :  "  The  hunting 
season  for  the  fisher,  in  the  northern  part  of  the 
State  (New  York),  commences  about  the  10th  of 
October  and  lasts  to  the  middle  of  May,  when  the 
furs  are  not  so  valuable.  The  ordinary  price  is  a 
dollar  and  a  half  per  skin."  Such  a  low  figure  as  this 
would  not  hold  good  nowadays,  for  the  least  expen- 
sive Eastern  skin  of  the  poorest  quality  brings  that 
price,  and  the  most  expensive  one  nine  dollars.  The 
average  price  of  a  good  pelt  is  seven  dollars  and  a 


FURRY  FRIENDS  WITH  FINE  SKINS.          121 

half.  Excepting  that  of  the  two  otters,  the  fisher's 
fur  is  the  most  expensive  of  any  belonging  to  the 
members  of  the  Mustelidce  family.  Its  prevailing 
color  is  an  admixture  of  brownish  and  grayish  tints, 
gradually  darkening  into  blackish  brown  at  the  hind 
quarters,  tail,  and  legs.  The  real  beauty  of  the  skin 
lies  in  its  rich,  smoky  brown  tone. 


American  Sable. 

The  fur  of  the  other,  smaller  marten,  sometimes 
called  the  pine  marten  or  American  sable  (Mustela 
americana\  is  almost  as  expensive  as  that  of  the 
larger  species.  It  is  by  far  the  commoner  fur  of  the 
two,  and  in  many  respects  is  quite  as  handsome.  This 
smaller  marten  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  our 
little  American  animals,  and  is  common  yet  among 
the  evergreen  forests  of  the  North.  His  environment 
is  properly  the  trackless  mountain  wilderness  where 
the  fir  and  the  spruce  cast  their  mingled  shade  over 
the  tangled  undergrowth  of  ferns,  lycopodiums,  shiny 


122     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

wintergreen,  and  gold  thread,  and  the  wild,  troubled 
mountain  stream  bordered  by  lichen-painted  rocks 
and  gnarled,  moss-covered  roots.  Here  we  may  see 
his  lithe,  gliding  body  appear  through  the  shadows,  a 
bright  bit  of  warm  color  set  in  the  sober  green  of  the 
forest.  But  the  little  animal  is  nocturnal  in  his  habits, 
and  one  gets  a  glimpse  of  him  only  once  in  a  lifetime ; 
if  it  is  early  spring,  one  may  chance  to  catch  sight  of 
the  female  in  search  of  food  for  her  young.  Not  in- 
frequently she  will  be  seen  traversing  the  limbs  of 
the  trees  hunting  for  the  nests  of  the  thrush  and 
vireo.  Martens  are  strictly  arboreal  in  their  habits, 
and  they  are  not  known  to  attack  poultry.  Their 
diet  is  usually  mice  in  particular,  and  partridges, 
birds,  eggs,  frogs,  and  the  larger  insects  in  general ; 
they  are  expert  climbers,  and  go  bird's-nesting  with 
great  success.  As  the  whole  group  of  Mustelidce  is 
characteristically  carnivorous,  I  have  grave  doubts 
about  this  animal  eating  nuts  and  berries,  as  some 
writers  aver. 

I  have  said  that  it  was  a  pretty  little  animal ;  at 
the  same  time  I  can  not  give  a  description  of  one  in- 
dividual which  will  do  for  all.  There  is  such  a  great 
variety  of  color  in  the  fur,  due  to  season,  age,  and  other 
conditions,  that  a  single  marten's  appearance  is  no 
criterion  for  that  of  the  genus.  The  particular  ani- 
mal which  I  remember  best  of  all  was  tawny  brown, 


FURRY  FRIENDS  WITH  FINE  SKINS.          123 

not  a  reddish  color  like  that  of  a  fox,  but  a  soft  tone 
nearly  like  that  of  a  lion,  but  darker.  The  feet  and 
tail  were  darker,  and  the  head  lighter  than  the  back. 
Mr.  B.  E.  Ross  describes  the  color  of  the  marten 
thus :  "  In  a  large  heap  of  skins  which  I  have  ex- 
amined minutely  there  exists  a  great  variety  of  shades 
darkening  from  the  rarer  yellowish  white  and  bright 
orange  into  a  variety  of  orange- browns  considerably 
clouded  with  black  on  the  back  and  belly,  and  ex- 
hibiting on  the  flanks  and  throat  more  of  an  orange 
tint.  The  legs  and  paws,  as  well  as  the  top  of  the 
tail,  are  nearly  pure  black.  The  claws  are  white  and 
sharp.  The  ears  are  invariably  edged  with  a  yellow- 
ish white,  and  the  cheeks  are  generally  of  the  same 
hue.  The  forehead  is  of  a  light  brownish  gray,  dark- 
ening toward  the  nose,  but  in  some  specimens  it  is 
nearly  as  dark  as  the  body.  The  yellowish  marking 
under  the  throat  (considered  a  specific  distinction  of 
the  pine  marten)  is  in  some  cases  well  defined  and 
of  an  orange  tint,  while  in  others  it  is  almost  perfect- 
ly white.  It  also  varies  much  in  extent,  reaching  to 
the  fore  legs  in  some  instances ;  in  others  consisting 
of  merely  a  few  spots,  and  in  still  others  being  en- 
tirely wanting." 

The  fur  is  variable,  of  course,  according  to  season  ; 
in  November  it  is  in  prime  condition,  and  in  winter 
it  still  continues  full  and  soft,  about  an  inch  or  so 


124     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

deep,  and  with  a  great  number  of  large  black  hairs 
interspersed. 

The  pine  marten  is  an  agreeable  little  creature 
when  tamed,  and  is  almost  entirely  without  the  un- 
pleasant odor  which  is  characteristic  of  the  family  to 
which  he  belongs.  But  he  has  a  pugnacious  disposi- 
tion, and  quarrels  with  any  part  of  the  animal  world 
he  rubs  against.  He  fights  and  kills  the  weaker  ro- 
dents, and  is  a  terror  to  the  woodland  birds.  He  is  a 
sworn  enemy  of  the  red  squirrel,  as  we  may  see  by 
the  following  account  of  Mr.  G.  S.  Miller,  Jr. :  "  At 
Nipigon  "  [Ontario]  "  a  trapper  told  me  that  the  mar- 
tens, wherever  they  occur  in  sufficient  numbers,  so 
terrorize  the  red  squirrels  by  constant  persecutions 
that  the  noisy  rodents,  learning  that  silence  is  their 
best  protection,  stop  chattering.  Hence  an  abundance 
of  silent  squirrels  is,  according  to  my  informant  at 
least,  a  certain  indication  that  marten  fur  is  plenti- 
ful." 

The  little  animal  is  somewhat  shy,  and  retreats  to 
the  seclusion  of  the  deep  woods  upon  the  advancing 
settlement  of  the  country.  I  recollect  that  as  early 
as  the  year  1867  the  marten  was  plentiful  in  the  Adi- 
rondack woods.  The  early  French  settlers,  in  fact, 
named  one  of  the  rivers  having  its  rise  in  these 
northern  woods  for  him — the  Ausable  River.  He  is 
still  common  in  the  evergreen  woods  of  that  region, 


FURRY  FRIENDS  WITH  FINE  SKINS.         125 

and  hundreds  are  trapped  there  every  year  for  their 
valuable  fur.  In  Maine  he  is  also  common  in  the 
vicinity  of  Lake  Umbagog,  and  he  frequently  appears 
in  the  spruce  forests  of  northern  New  Hampshire. 
Notwithstanding  his  shyness,  he  is  a  bit  inquisitive, 
and  trappers  say  that  if  one  should  meet  him  and 
begin  to  whistle,  his  curiosity  will  overcome  his  pru- 
dence, and  he  will  allow  himself  to  be  approached 
near  enough  to  be  easily  shot.  When  he  is  trapped, 
if  any  one  draws  very  near  he  will  raise  his  hair, 
arch  his  back,  show  his  teeth,  and  growl  and  hiss 
like  a  cat.  If  attacked  by  a  dog,  he  will  fasten  on 
his  nose  if  he  can,  and  bite  so  severely  that  the  dis- 
tracted dog  will  frequently  let  go  his  game  and  suffer 
it  to  escape. 

The  female  makes  her  nest  in  the  hollow  of  a 
log,  or  rarely  in  some  secluded  spot  on  the  ground, 
and  bears  from  four  to  six  young  ones  in  early 
April.  The  animal  when  full  grown  is  about  the 
size  of  a  cat,  but  slenderer  and  much  shorter  legged. 
The  tail,  hairs  and  all,  is  nearly  a  foot  long,  bushy, 
and  in  this  respect  quite  the  reverse  of  that  of  the 
pecan.  The  head  is  rather  triangular  and  conical, 
and  the  eyes  are  set  obliquely  at  the  point  where  the 
muzzle  begins  to  contract. 

The  finest  marten  furs  come  from  the  country 
north  of  Lake  Superior,  and  from  Labrador  and 


126     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

Alaska.  These  are  quoted  at  from  five  to  seven 
dollars  each,  while  those  coming  from  New  York 
and  New  England  rarely  bring  more  than  two 
dollars. 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

FUR-CLAD  FIGHTERS. 
The  Weasels. 

may  consider  the  weasels  furry  friends,  if 
we  look  at  the  matter  from  an  unprejudiced  stand- 
point, and  do  the  creatures  the  justice  to  admit  that 
they  are  remarkably  serviceable,  not  so  much  in  the 
form  of  a  muff  or  a  collar  as  in  the  capacity  of  just 
and  effective  destroyers  of  vermin.  If  the  wolverene 
is  a  friend  on  account  of  his  fur,  then  the  weasel  is  a 
better  friend,  because  he  can  beat  the  record  of  the 
best-trained  terrier  in  rat-killing.  The  sight  of  a 
weasel  just  issuing  from  a  rat  hole  licking  his  chops 
after  a  good  day's  work,  prompts  one  to  call  him  a 
glorious  fighter ;  the  animal  deserves  our  congratula- 
tions, and  he  gets  them.  But  when  he  comes  out  of 
the  henhouse  and  leaves  thirty  or  forty  bedraggled 
corpses  behind  him  which  are  not  rats,  but  chickens, 
then  we  reach  for  the  gun  and  pay  him  in  his  own 
coin.  In  the  latter  case  I  should  properly  introduce 

him  hors  de  combat  and  physically  exhausted,  as  the 

127 


128     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

celebrated  chicken-killer  who  has  done  his  best !  It 
altogether  depends  upon  what  he  happens  to  have 
done  whether  we  shall  consider  him  as  a  friend  or 
a  foe. 

Now,  the  next  relatives  of  the  martens  are  the 
little  and  larger  weasels,  the  latter  being  the  most 
bloodthirsty  little  rascal,  taking  size  into  considera- 
tion, of  all  animal  creation.  This  seems  a  sweeping 
assertion,  but  I  shall  presently  gather  together  suffi- 
cient data  to  establish  the  charge  beyond  refutation. 

The  little  brown  weasel  (Putorius*  cicognani — 
Putorius  vulgaris,  of  Merriam)  is  a  long-bodied  ani- 
mal scarcely  larger  than  a  rat.  He  lives  along  water 
courses,  in  swamps,  and  under  rocky  ledges,  and  his 
prey  comprises  a  variety  of  small  creatures,  such  as 
mice,  moles,  birds  and  their  eggs,  insects,  and  frogs. 
He  is  reputed  to  be  an  enemy  of  chickens,  but  there 
is  no  doubt  whatever  that  some  confusion  exists  be- 
tween him  and  the  larger  weasel  in  the  minds  of  the 
farmers.  The  latter  is  really  the  destroyer  who  en- 
ters the  poultry  yard,  and  not  the  little  brown  weasel. 

The  following  are  the  principal  points  of  distinc- 
tion between  the  two  species : 

Little  brown  weasel  (Putorius  cicognani) ;  length 
of  body  without  tail,  six  to  eight  inches ;  tail  short, 

*  From  the  Latin  putor,  a  stench,  in  allusion  to  the  putrid 
odor  of  some  members  of  the  genus. 


FUR-CLAD  FIGHTERS.  129 

cylindrical,  black  at  the  tip ;   color  of  under  parts 
buff-white,  sharply  defined  in  nearly  a  straight  line 


Little  brown  Weasel. 


beside  the  brown  ;  feet  white  beneath ;  always  turns 
white  on  the  approach  of  winter.* 


Larger  weasel  in  his  summer  coat. 

Larger  weasel  (Putorius  noveboracensis — Puto- 
rius erminea,  of  Coues) ;  length  of  body  without  tail, 
eight  to  eleven,  or  oftener  nine  to  ten,  inches;  tail 
at  all  seasons  bushy,  conspicuously  black-tipped  for 
about  one  third  of  its  total  length.  Color  of  under 

*  In  Connecticut  P.  cicognani  always  turns  white  in  winter, 
while  P.  noveboracensis  never  does. 
10 


130      FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

parts  buff -white  irregularly  defined  against  the  brown ; 

feet  brown ;  turns  white  only  in  the  northern  part  of 

its  range.     The  male  of  this  species  is  much  larger 

than  the  female. 

In  respect  to  the  general  color  both  weasels  are 

the  same.  But  Elliott  Coues  makes  an  emphatic 
point  of  distinction  between  the 
two  species,  which  is  obvious  in  a 
comparison  of  the  tails.  He  says: 
"  This  member  is  both  absolutely 
and  relatively  shorter  in  the  weasel 
than  in  the  ermine.  ...  In  the 
weasel  the  tail  is  without  the  slight- 
est bushy  enlargement,  and  in  most 
of  the  specimens  I  have  seen  there 
is  no  black  whatever  at  the  end  of 
weasels1  tails.  the  tail ;  on  the  contrary,  the  end  is 

1.  P.  rixosus  l 

2.  P.  dcognani ;         frequently  tipped  with  a  few  white 

3.  P.  noviboracensis.     ,     .        ,,       -,-  ,,  .  -, 

hairs.*  In  other  specimens,  how- 
ever, the  tail  is  dusky,  while  in  one  from  Oregon  the 
tip  is  quite  blackish."  He  furthermore  says,  speak- 
ing of  the  skins  which  he  had  seen  (from  British 
America)  of  the  whole  animal,  that  "  they  were  about 
six  inches  long,  and  also  somewhat  peculiar  in  the 
intensity  of  a  liver-brown  shade."  Now  Dr.  Coues 

*  He  evidently  refers  to  the  northern  or  Arctic  species  called 
the  least  weasel  (Putorius  rixosus),  which  is  not  found  in  the  East. 


PUR-CLAD  FIGHTERS. 

has  recorded  the  common  color  of  the  weasel  as  a 
variable  mahogany  brown,  and  he  cites  this  peculiar 
liver  color  as  an  exception  to  the  rule;  but  I  must 
say  that  the  weasels  which  I  was  fortunate  enough  to 
see  last  summer  in  broad  daylight  (at  ten  o'clock  in 
the  morning)  were  an  unmistakable  seal  brown  of  a 
lightish  tone,  or  liver  brown — i.  e.,  a  color  produced 
by  mixing  six  parts  sepia  with  one  part  crimson  lake. 
But  a  mahogany-colored  weasel  I  have  never  seen. 

The  weasel  is  an  inquisitive  little  animal,  cease- 
lessly active,  and  ever  on  the  scent  of  his  prey ;  this, 
it  is  said,  he  pursues  with  the  intelligence  of  a  hound. 
Mr.  Thomas  Bell  describes  the 
weasel's  hunt  as  follows  :  "  In 
pursuing  a  rat  or  a  mouse  it 
not  only  follows  it  as  long  as  it 
remains  within  sight,  but  con-  Head  of  little  brown  wea. 
tinues  the  chase  after  it  has  dis-  sel'  showin& the  n*rrow  form 

adapted  to  the  exploration  of 

appeared,  with  the  head  raised    sma11  animals'  homes  under- 

ground. 

a  little  above  the  ground,  fol- 
lowing the  exact  track  recently  taken  by  its  destined 
prey.  Should  it  lose  the  scent,  it  returns  to  the 
point  where  it  was  lost,  and  quarters  the  ground  with 
great  diligence  till  it  has  recovered  it ;  thus,  by  dint 
of  perseverance,  it  will  ultimately  hunt  down  a 
swifter  and  even  a  stronger  animal  than  itself.  But 
this  is  not  all:  in  the  pertinacity  of  its  pursuit  it 


132      FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

will  readily  take  the  water,  and  swim  with  great  ease 
after  its  prey." 

The  female  weasel,  a  much  smaller  animal  than 
the  male,  brings  forth  four,  or  more  frequently  five, 
young,  and  has  two  or  three  litters  in  a  year.  The 
nest  is  composed  of  leaves  and  herbage,  and  is  warm 
and  dry ;  usually  it  is  built  in  a  hole  under  some 
river  bank  or  in  the  hollow  of  a  tree. 

As  a  rule  the  little  brown  weasel  will  most  likely 
be  seen  in  the  woody  borders  of  the  meadow,  not  far 
from  the  river.  Last  June,  during  a  most  unpre- 
cedented flood  of  the  Pemigewasset  Eiver,  EC.  H., 
caused  by  violent  rains,  the  weasels  were  driven  from 
the  river  banks  to  the  higher  land  at  the  foot  of  the 
hills.  To  my  unspeakable  surprise,  I  saw,  one  morn- 
ing while  weeding  the  garden  bed  in  front  of  the 
house,  a  number  of  weasels  traveling  Indian  file 
down  the  brick  walk  directly  toward  me.  The  baby 
(aged  three)  stood  on  the  bricks,  and  as  I  handed 
him  a  bachelor's  button  in  compliance  with  his  re- 
quest, I  noticed  that  he  seemed  a  trifle  disturbed  by 
something  near  his  feet.  No  wonder !  there  were  a 
number  of  long-necked,  ratlike  creatures  plodding 
slowly  along,  within  six  inches  of  his  toes,  and  grunt- 
ing discomposedly  like  little  pigs.  On  they  came, 
the  queer,  dark-brown,  bold-faced  things,  apparently 
with  no  thought  except  that  the  brick  walk  was  the 


FUR-CLAD  FIGHTERS. 


133 


proper  thoroughfare  to  the  gate,  and  that  we  were  in 
the  way.  I  never  saw  so  strange  a  sight.  "We  stood 
— the  baby  and  I — within  four 
feet  of  the  wide-open 
rustic  gate,  which  with 
the  surrounding  coun- 
try seemed  entirely  too 
public  to  the  weasels' 
minds.  I  was  still  more 
amazed,  a  moment  later, 
while  three  or  four  of  the 
animals  were  endeavoring 
to  insert  themselves  between 
the  boards  of  the  plank  walk 
set  scarcely  an  inch  apart,  just 
beside  the  gate,  to  notice  one 
of  the  individuals  return  a  few 
feet,  saucily  stare  us  in  the  face, 
and  with  a  variety  of  hisses  and 
grunts  show  his  disapproval  of  our 
presence.  Still  another,  much  both- 
ered by  the  publicity  of  the  meeting, 
took  refuge  beneath  a  neighboring  sun- 
flower, and,  after  squeaking  and  grunting 
his  dissatisfaction  a  moment  longer,  con- 
cluded to  join  his  fellows  under  the  plank  walk. 
After  a  while,  with  a  good  deal  of  scrambling  and 


134     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

squeezing,  they  all  succeeded  in  getting  there.  Then 
the  place  looked  deserted.  But  presently  the  regi- 
ment reappeared — Indian  file  again — down  by  the 
horse  block  on  the  road,  at  the  foot  of  the  terrace ; 
here  I  had  a  chance  to  count  them  as  they  marched 
riverward  across  the  road  and  disappeared  in  the 
shrubbery  on  the  other  side — there  were  no  less  than 
nine.  I  have  not  the  remotest  idea  why  so  many  of 
them  had  congregated  in  the  vicinity  of  the  cottage, 
unless  the  refuse  tub  around  in  the  rear  was  the  at- 
traction. Truth  to  tell,  on  the  borders  of  the  wilder- 
ness more  wild  animals  (and  tame  ones,  too,  for  I 
must  include  the  itinerant  cow)  visit  one's  refuse 
tub  than  may  be  found  in  a  city  menagerie ! 

I  have  often  met  the  weasel,  and  he  never  im- 
pressed me  with  any  shyness  of  disposition ;  but 
others  have  had  a  contrary  experience  ;  for  instance, 
Dr.  Abbott  relates  the  following :  "  The  careless 
snapping  of  a  twig  may  not  startle  you,  but  it  tele- 
graphs your  whereabouts  to  creatures  many  a  rod 
away.  .  .  .  Not  long  since  I  was  watching  a  weasel 
as  it  tripped  along  the  rough  rails  of  an  old  worm 
fence.  It  was  intently  engaged,  following  the  trail 
of  a  ground  squirrel,  perhaps.  Suddenly,  as  if  shot, 
it  stood  in  a  half -erect  posture,  turned  its  head  quick- 
ly from  one  side  to  the  other,  then  rested  one  ear  on 
or  very  near  the  rail,  as  I  thought ;  then  reassumed  a 


FUR-CLAD  FIGHTERS. 


135 


semi-erect  position,  gave  a  quick,  bark  like  cry,  and 
disappeared.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  meaning 
of  every  movement.  The  animal  had  heard  a  sus- 
picious sound,  and  recognizing  it  as  fraught  with  dan- 
ger, promptly  sought  safety. 

"  Extremely    curious   myself  to  learn   what  the 
weasel  had  heard — for  I  was  sure  it  was  the  sound  of 


perfectly    still 
mystery   was 


weasel, 


an  approaching   object  —  I   sat 
awaiting  coming  events  :  the 
quickly  solved — a  man  drew 
The  assurance  of  the     \ 
however,    in    the   pres- 
ence  of  his  prey  is 
unbounded.        He 
throws  himself  on 
the   unsuspecting 
victim  like  a 
panther,  and 


if  it  is 
a  mouse 

Or     a  Weasel  and  a  rat.  Squirrel  gives 

it  one  bite  on   the  head, 

piercing  the  brain  and  thus  killing  the  creature  in 
an  instant.     His  lithe,  sinuous  form  enables  him  to 


136     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

bend  himself  in  the  most  extraordinary  way  and  seize 
his  prey  at  the  greatest  possible  advantage. 

The  weasel  climbs  trees  with  perfect  ease,  and 
rifles  a  bird's  nest  of  its  occupants  or  eggs,  as  the  case 
may  be.  In  the  barn,  among  the  grain  stacks  and 
hayricks,  he  is  an  invaluable  friend  to  the  farmer, 
for  he  will  quickly  rid  the  premises  of  all  mice  and 
rats. 

According  to  Mr.  Outram  Bangs,  the  range  of  this 
weasel  extends  nearly  across  the  continent,  through 
the  forest  belt;  his  range  has  been  positively  fixed 
from  Long  Island  and  Connecticut  northward  to  Lab- 
rador, and  westward  at  least  to  Fort  Snelling,  Minn. 
He  turns  white  in  winter  throughout  this  range ;  the 
hindquarters  are  tinged  with  sulphur  yellow.  The 
skin  of  this  weasel  has  no  especial  market  value. 

The  larger  weasel,  mistakenly  called  the  ermine  or 
stoat  (Putorius  noveboracensis — Putorius  erminea  of 
Coues),  is  not  identical  with  the  European  species, 
which  is  considered  so  valuable  for  its  white  fur.* 
As  a  bloodthirsty  character  he  has  no  parallel  among 
the  mammals ;  this  seems  to  be  a  universal  opinion 
among  those  who  know  the  remarkable  little  crea- 

*  Elliott  Coues,  in  Fur-bearing  Animals,  makes  no  distinction 
between  the  European  ermine  and  this  larger  weasel.  The  differ- 
ences, however,  are  very  great,  and  more  than  sufficient  to  induce 
me  to  adopt  the  conclusions  of  later  authors. 


FDR-CLAD   FIGHTERS.  137 

ture  well,  and  there  are  apparently  records  enough 
of  his  murderous  deeds  to  amply  justify  such  an 
opinion. 

One  would  never  think,  though,  to  see  the  pretty 
little  animal  in  confinement,  that  he  was  such  a  dis- 
reputable character ;  but  when  I  search  among  his 
records  I  find  substantially  the  same  old  story  every- 
where. Audubon,  William  Macgillivray  (who  de- 
scribes the  European  ermine),  Elliott  Coues,  John 
Burroughs,  Dr.  Merriam,  and  J.  A.  Allen  all  tell 
equal  tales  of  the  creature's  relentless  passion  for  de- 
struction. Even  E.  P.  Roe  does  not  let  him  pass 
without  a  just  "  dab  "  in  Nature's  Serial  Story,  and  I 
find  the  tale  repeated  there  of  his  killing  "  fifty  chick- 
ens in  one  night  "  out  of  "  pure  cussedness  "  has  gone 
the  rounds  of  the  creature's  most  recent  biographers. 
It  is  apparently  unnecessary  for  me  to  add  anything 
of  a  like  nature  to  these  woeful  tales,  but  I  think  I 
shall  be  justified  in  telling  one,  the  finale  of  which 
will  relieve  the  series  from  a  character  of  monotony. 
But  first  let  us  have  some  of  that  data  about  the 
so-called  ermine's  bloodthirsty  character  which  was 
promised  on  a  previous  page. 

Audubon  says  :  "  Yet,  with  all  these  external  at- 

«/ 

tractions,  this  weasel  is  fierce  and  bloodthirsty,  pos- 
sessing an  intuitive  propensity  to  destroy  every  ani- 
mal and  bird  within  its  reach,  some  of  which — 


138     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

such  as  the  American  rabbit,  the  ruffed  grouse,  and 
domestic  fowl — are  ten  times  its  own  size.  It  is  a 
notorious  and  hated  depredator  of  the  poultry  house, 
and  we  have  known  forty  well-grown  fowls  "  [later 
accounts  make  it  fifty]  "  to  have  been  killed  in  one 
night  by  a  single  ermine.  Satiated  with  the  blood 
of  probably  a  single  fowl,  the  rest,  like  the  flock 
slaughtered  by  the  wolf  in  the  sheepfold,  were  de- 
stroyed in  obedience  to  a  law  of  Nature,  an  instinctive 
propensity  to  kill.  .  .  .  We  have  observed  an  ermine, 
after  having  captured  a  hare,  .  .  .  first  behead  it  and 
then  drag  the  body  some  twenty  yards  over  the  fresh 
fallen  snow,  beneath  which  it  was  concealed  and  the 
snow  lightly  pressed  down  over  it." 

Now  let  us  hear  what  Elliott  Coues  has  to  say : 
"  Swift  and  surefooted,  he  makes  open  chase  and  runs 
down  his  prey ;  ...  he  assails  it  not  only  upon  the 
ground,  but  under  it,  and  on  trees  and  in  the  water. 
Keen  of  scent,  he  tracks  it  and  makes  the  fatal  spring 
upon  it  unawares ;  lithe,  and  of  extraordinary  slen- 
derness  of  body,  he  follows  the  smaller  creatures 
through  the  intricacies  of  their  hidden  abodes,  and 
kills  them  in  their  homes  ;  and  if  he  does  not  kill  for 
the  simple  love  of  taking  life,  in  gratification  of  super- 
lative bloodthirstiness,  he  at  any  rate  kills  instinctive- 
ly more  than  he  can  possibly  require  for  his  support. 
I  know  not  where  to  find  a  parallel  among  the  larger 


FUR-CLAD  FIGHTERS.  139 

carnivora.  ...  A  glance  at  the  physiognomy  of  the 
weasels  would  suffice  to  betray  their  character.  The 
teeth  are  almost  of  the  highest  known  raptorial " 
[preying]  "  character ;  the  jaws  are  worked  by  enor- 
mous masses  of  muscles  covering  all  the  side  of  the 
skull.  The  forehead  .^^^ 

is  low,  and  the  nose 
is  sharp  ;  the  eyes 
are  small,  penetrating, 
cunning,  and  glitter 
with  an  angry  green 
light.  There  is  some- 

thing   peculiar,   more-  Face  of  a  Western  Weasel 

(Putorius  nigripes). 

over,  in  the  way  that 

this  fierce  face  surmounts  a  body  extraordinarily  wiry, 
lithe,  and  muscular.  It  ends  a  remarkably  long  and 
slender  neck  in  such  a  way  that  it  may  be  held  at 
right  angles  with  the  axis  of  the  latter.  When  the 
creature  is  glancing  around,  with  the  neck  stretched 
up  and  flat,  triangular  head  bent  forward,  swaying 
from  one  side  to  the  other,  we  catch  the  likeness  in 
a  moment — it  is  the  image  of  a  serpent !  "  * 

It  seems  as  if  this  uncompromising,  unqualified 
exposure  of  bad  character  was  sufficiently  convincing 
to  go  no  further ;  but  I  must  repeat  what  John  Bur- 

*  Fur-bearing  Animals. 


14;0     FAMILIAR  LIFE   IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

roughs  has  said  also.     After  telling  of  the  manifold 
perils  of  a  bird's  life,  he  says : 

"  One  day  last  summer  my  attention  was  arrested 
by  the  angry  notes  of  a  pair  of  brown  thrashers  that 
were  flitting  from  bush  to  bush  along  an  old  stone 
row  in  a  remote  field.  Presently  I  saw  what  it  was 
that  excited  them — three  large,  red  weasels  or  ermines 
coming  along  the  stone  wall  and  leisurely  and  half 
playfully  exploring  every  tree  that  stood  near  it. 
They  had  probably  robbed  the  thrashers.  They 
would  go  up  the  trees  with  greatest  ease  and  glide 
serpentlike  out  upon  the  main  branches.  When  they 
descended  the  tree  they  were  unable  to  come  straight 
down  like  a  squirrel,  but  went  around  it  spirally. 
How  boldly  they  thrust  their  heads  out  of  the  wall 
and  eyed  and  sniffed  me  as  I  drew  near — their  round, 
thin  ears,  their  prominent,  glistening,  beadlike  eyes, 
and  the  curving,  snakelike  motions  of  the  head  and 
neck  being  very  noticeable.  They  looked  like  blood- 
suckers and  egg-suckers.  They  suggested  something 
extremely  remorseless  and  cruel.  One  could  under- 
stand the  alarm  of  rats  when  they  discover  one  of 
these  fearless,  subtle,  and  circumventing  creatures 
threading  their  holes.  To  flee  must  be  like  trying  to 
escape  death  itself." 

Yery  true,  the  rats  are  undoubtedly  struck  with 
mortal  terror  on  the  approach  of  this  their  deadliest 


FUR-CLAD  FIGHTERS.  141 

enemy.*  But  the  rat  makes  some  show  of  fight  not- 
withstanding the  desperate  odds  against  him,  and 
sometimes  he  "turns  the  tables."  Now  for  my  story. 
Not  long  ago,  in  a  comfortable  old  farmhouse 
familiar  to  me  from  childhood,  but  one  much  the 
worse  for  the  company  of  rats,  a  weasel  appeared 
around  the  kitchen  way,  evidently  seeking  for  some 
ingress  to  the  partitions.  At  last  he  found  the  desired 
rat-hole,  and  entered.  In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell 
it,  there  was  the  dickens  to  pay  inside  the  walls  of  the 
old  house ;  such  desperate  scrambling,  rushing,  squeak- 
ing, and  shrieking  were  never  heard  there  before! 
Truly  speaking — 

"  You  heard  as  if  an  army  muttered  ; 
And  the  muttering  grew  to  a  grumbling ; 
And  the  grumbling  grew  to  a  mighty  rumbling ; 
And  out  of  the  house  the  rats  came  tumbling." 

There  was  grim  death  in  the  path  of  the  destroyer  for 

*  "  We  once  placed  a  half-domesticated  ermine  in  an  outhouse 
infested  with  rats,  shutting  up  the  holes  on  the  outside  to  prevent 
their  escape.  The  little  animal  soon  commenced  his  work  of  de- 
struction ;  the  squeaking  of  the  rats  was  heard  throughout  the 
day.  In  the  evening  it  came  out  licking  its  mouth,  and  seemed 
like  a  hound  after  a  long  chase,  much  fatigued.  A  board  of  the 
floor  was  raised  to  enable  us  to  ascertain  the  result  of  our  experi- 
ment, and  an  immense  number  of  rats  were  observed,  which,  al- 
though they  had  been  killed  in  different  parts  of  the  building, 
had  been  dragged  together,  forming  a  compact  heap.  The  ermine, 
then,  is  of  immense  benefit  to  the  farmer.  We  are  of  the  opinion 
that  it  has  been  over-hated  and  too  indiscriminately  persecuted." 
— Quadrupeds  of  North  America,  Audubon. 


142     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

a  considerable  space  of  time ;  then,  in  a  tumultuous 
scramble,  he  reappeared  in  the  kitchen  in  a  desperate 
encounter  with  several  rodents,  and  surprising  as  it 
may  seem,  exhausted  and  torn  by  the  violence  of  the 
conflict.  The  rats  were  too  many  for  him;  he  was 
worsted ;  and  in  two  minutes  more  he  was  "  as  dead 
as  a  doornail,"  with  a  significant  and  appropriate  sur- 
rounding of  disjecta  membra. 

Dr.  Merriam  remarks  that  the  weasel  is  ever  vic- 
torious ;  but  here  is  an  instance  of  something  quite 
the  contrary,  and  although  one's  sympathies  are  not 
often  enlisted  on  the  rat's  side,  one  can  not  help  feel- 
ing like  complimenting  the  old  rodents  which  on  this 
occasion  broke  the  record. 

The  weasel,  as  a  rule,  does  not  eat  the  flesh  of  his 
victim  when  game  is  plenty ;  instead,  he  devours  the 
brains,  sucks  the  blood,  and,  when  finished,  goes  for 
the  next  and  the  next  victim,  until,  after  a  most  ter- 
rific slaughter,  he  stops  through  sheer  exhaustion. 
Relying  on  his  strong,  muscular  jaws  he  springs  upon 
his  game,  and  "  brains  "  it  with  a  single  bite.  Hunt- 
ing day  and  night,  climbing  trees  with  perfect  ease, 
and  entering  the  burrows  of  the  rodents,  he  is  a  ter- 
ror to  all  animal  creation.  Even  the  dog  does  not 
get  the  best  of  him  without  a  tough  tussle,  for  he  will 
grab  his  nose  if  he  gets  a  chance  and  hold  on  with 
the  grip  of  a  vise.  Fortunately,  he  does  not  very 


FUR-CLAD  FIGHTERS.  143 

often  enter  the  chicken  house ;  but  when  he  does,  it 
is  good-by  to  the  hens !  In  the  field,  or  among  the 
grain  stacks,  like  the  little  brown  weasel  he  is  the  best 
friend  of  the  farmer,  for  mice,  rats,  and  rabbits  are 
his  favorite  game. 

The  range  of  this  weasel  is  from  southern  Maine 
and  Yermont  South  to  North  Carolina,  and  West  to 
Indiana  and  Illinois. 

In  late  summer,  autumn,  and  winter  the  weasel's 
coat  is  remarkably  beautiful.  The  change  from  dark 
brown  in  summer  to  white  in  winter  is  perhaps  the 
most  remarkable  thing  about  the  little  animal.  There 
is  an  irregular  line  of  demarcation  between  the  upper 
brown  and  the  lower  buff- white  color  in  summer; 
this  line  begins  at  .the  mouth,  and  continues  low  down 
on  the  sides  to  the  tail ;  all  around  the  latter  and 
over  the  paws  is  the  same  color  as  the  back,  but  the 
tip  of  the  tail  is  black. 

According  to  Elliott  Coues,  the  latitudes  in  which 
the  change  occurs  in  this  country  include  the  north- 
ern tier  of  States  and  the  entire  region  northward. 
In  this  area,  he  says,  the  change  is  regular,  complete, 
and  universal ;  but,  Audubon  says,  "  in  specimens 
received  from  Virginia  the  colors  of  the  back  had 
undergone  no  change  in  January." 

Regarding  the  cause  of  the  color  change,  about 
which  there  is  much  conflicting  opinion,  to  those  who, 


144     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


like  myself,  have  observed  the  animal  only  in  the 
North,  it  would  seem  as  though  Dr.  Merriam's  theory, 
recently  expressed,  is  the  one  which  is 


correct. 
My  experi- 
ence   inclines 
me  to  believe  that 
the     change     from 
brown  to  white  occurs. 

altogether  too  suddenly,  In  his  winter'coat.  m  many  in- 
stances, to  admit  of  any  other  ex- 
planation than  that  which  Dr.  Merriam  gives,  quoted 
below. 

Elliott  Coues  says :  "  As  Mr.  Bell  contends,  tem- 
perature *  is  the  immediate  controlling  agent.  This 
is  amply  proved  in  the  fact  that  the  northern  animals 
always  change ;  that  in  those  from  intermediate  lati- 
tudes the  change  is  incomplete,  while  those  from  far- 

*  We  may  safely  conclude  that  if  the  requisite  temperature  is 
experienced  at  the  periods  of  renewal  of  the  coat,  the  new  hairs 
will  come  out  of  the  opposite  color ;  if  not,  they  will  appear  of 
the  same  color  and  change  afterward  ;  that  is,  the  change  may  or 
may  not  be  coincident  with  shedding.  That  it  is  ordinarily  not 
so  coincident  seems  shown  by  the  greater  number  of  specimens  in 
which  we  observe  white  hairs  brown  tipped. — Fur-Bearing  Ani- 
mals, page  123,  E.  Coues. 


FUR-CLAD  FIGHTERS.  145 

ther  south  do  not  change  at  all.  ...  The  design  or 
final  cause  of  this  remarkable  alteration  is  evident  in 
the  screening  of  the  animal  from  observation  by  as- 
similation of  its  color  to  that  of  its  surroundings.  It 
is  shielded  not  only  from  its  enemies,  but  from  its 
prey  as  well." 

Now  I  quote  in  substance  what  Dr.  Merriam  says 
to  the  contrary :  "  Temperature,"  he  states,  "  time  of 
change,  and  fact  of  change  have  little  to  do  with  the 
case.  In  the  Adirondacks  the  ermine  never  turns 
white  until  after  the  first  snow.  In  late  October  or 
early  November,  forty-eight  hours  after  a  snowstorm, 
regardless  of  temperature,  the  coat  has  assumed  a  pied 
appearance,  often  systematically  marked  and  striking- 
ly handsome;  the  change  continues  with  great  rapid- 
ity. By  early  spring  the  process  is  reversed ;  the 
change  will  even  occur  in  a  warm  room  indoors,  al- 
though the  transition  is  tardy ;  but  it  is  really  occa- 
sioned by  the  inevitable  influence  of  hereditary 
habit." 

In  northern  New  Hampshire,  among  the  great 
hills,  the  temperature  frequently  falls  to  20°,  and  even 
12°,  between  September  20th  and  November  10th. 
Yet,  until  the  snow  comes,  the  weasel  remains  brown. 
There  is  no  lack  of  continued  cold,  either,  between 
these  dates,  for  almost  every  night  in  the  latter  part 

of  October  the  mercury  drops  to  the  freezing  point, 
11 


146      FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

and  frequently  far  below  it.  The  larger  weasel  is  by 
no  means  rare  in  this  part  of  the  country,  and  there 
is  sufficient  opportunity  for  a  trapper  to  study  his 
change  of  coat  in  early  winter.  The  nest  of  the  little 
animal  will  be  found  snugly  tucked  away  in  the  hol- 
low of  some  old  stump,  or  in  the  sheltered  nook  be- 
tween an  old  moss-covered  log  and  a  shelving  rock. 
In  early  May  the  female  bears  from  four  to  six 
young,  which,  it  is  said,  remain  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
nest  all  summer. 

The  white  fur  of  the  ermine  seems  to  have  gone 
out  of  fashion  so  completely  that  I  can  find  no  quota- 
tion of  its  value  in  the  American  list. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TWO  FAMOUS  SWIMMERS. 
The  Mink  and  Otter. 

THE  mink  (Putorius  visor)  is  the  next  relation 
of  the  weasel.  Larger  and  heavier  in  figure,  in  some 
respects  he  resembles  the  marten  ;  like  this  animal,  he 
has  a  large  bushy  tail,  but,  unlike  him,  the  ears  are 
small  and  low,  scarcely  extending  beyond  the  fur  in  the 
vicinity ;  they  are  rounded,  and  well  furred  on  both 
sides.  The  feet  are  somewhat  pointed  and  small,  and 
the  legs  are  short.  Over  the  snow  the  tracks  of  the 
mink  are  mingled  in  one  regular  and  rather  deep  fur- 
row, quite  different  in  this  respect  from  the  rhyth- 
mical tracks  of  the  marten.  On  the  sandy  river  beach 
the  tracks  are  also  a  trifle  mixed,  and  are  easily  recog- 
nized on  this  account. 

The  mink  is  a  handsome  animal,  with  a  beautiful, 
long,  very  dark-brown  or  blackish  fur,  and  black, 
bushy  tail ;  beneath,  his  body  is  irregularly  patched 
with  white.  He  is  tolerably  abundant  in  the  Adiron- 
dack woods ;  occasionally  he  is  found  on  the  borders 

147 


148     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN   FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

of  tlie  woodland  lakes  of  northern  New  Hampshire, 
and  rarely  he  is  met  with  in  the  wilder  parts  of 
Massachusetts. 

The  prey  of  this  thoroughly  aquatic  mammal, 
which,  somewhat  web-footed,  swims  and  dives  like  a 
fish,  consists  of  mice,  rats,  muskrats,  birds,  eggs,  fish, 


The  Mink. 

frogs,  crayfish,  and  fresh-water  mussels.  He  is,  like 
the  weasel,  the  particular  enemy  of  the  rat,  who,  it 
is  said,  gives  no  battle,  but  yields  at  once ;  the  mink 
severs  the  main  blood-vessels  of  the  neck  so  skillfully 
that  the  deed  is  scarcely  observable.*  Occasionally 
the  animal  enters  the  henhouse  or  the  poultry  yard 
and  makes  away  with  a  number  of  chickens  and  ducks ; 
but,  unlike  the  weasel,  he  does  not  proceed  to  wan- 
ton murder.  He  takes  one  chicken  at  a  time,  and 
most  likely  devours  it,  flesh,  bones,  and  all ;  then,  if 
he  feels  like  it,  he  helps  himself  to  another.  When, 

*  Fur-bearing  Animals.    Elliott  Coues. 


THE  MINK. 
PUTORIUS   VISOR. 

"  He  even  captures  the  speckled  beauty 
of  the  mountain  stream," 


TWO   FAMOUS  SWIMMERS.  14.9 

however,  food  is  plenty  he  is  a  bit  wasteful.  One 
winter  a  mink  tunneled  a  passage  under  the  snow  to 
the  troughs  of  the  State  Fish  Hatchery,  at  Liverrnore 
Falls,  N.  H.,  where  he  captured  and  destroyed  num- 
berless trout,  the  remains  of  which  were  discovered, 
when  the  snow  disappeared  in  the  spring,  in  and  about 
his  nest.  He  is  decidedly  nocturnal  in  his  habits,  and 
consequently  is  not  as  often  caught  in  his  depreda- 
tions on  the  poultry  inclosure  as  the  fox  or  the  weasel ; 
but  he  generally  frequents  the  margins  of  rivers  and 
lakes  both  night  and  day.  The  only  one  I  ever  saw 
in  the  wild  state  was  busily  occupied  in  the  middle  of 
a  summer  morning  devouring  either  a  mouse  or  a  frog 
on  the  sandy  border  of  a  mountain  lake.  Dr.  Mer- 
riam  says  he  once  saw  three  on  the  banks  of  the  out- 
let of  Seventh  Lake  (Adirondacks),  and  many  times 
has  met  them  in  summer  and  winter  about  the  water 
courses  of  northern  New  York.  The  little  animal 
often  prowls  about  the  lakes  of  the  Adirondack  wil- 
derness, he  further  says,  and  devours  the  remains  of 
fish  left  on  the  shore  near  the  camps.  As  a  swimmer 
the  mink  is  not  excelled  by  any  other  similar  small 
animal.  He  can  remain  a  long  time  under  water,  and 
pursues  fish  by  following  them  under  logs  and  shelter- 
ing rocks.  He  even  captures  the  speckled  beauty  of 
the  mountain  stream,  for  Audubon  relates  that  he  saw 
a  mink  catch  a  trout  upward  of  a  foot  long.  Exceed- 


150     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

ingly  strong  for  so  small  an  animal,  and  sagacious  to 
a  surprising  degree,  it  is  on  record  that  he  has  dragged 
a  mallard  duck  more  than  a  mile  to  reach  his  hole 
and  share  the  game  with  his  mate.  The  writer  *  says : 
"As  we  followed  the  line  we  could  easily  trace  the 
wide  trail  'of  the  mallard  as  it  was  dragged  bodily 
along  over  the  fresh  snow,  and  the  deep  penetration 
of  its  claws  into  the  new  ice  spoke  volumes  of  the 
force  exerted  by  the  small  animal  in  the  completion 
of  so  severe  an  undertaking." 

When  the  mink  is  caught  young,  and  tamed,  he 
makes  not  only  a  good  ratter  but  an  interesting  pet, 
although  he  resents  any  careless  stepping  on  his  feet 
or  tail  by  using  his  sharp  teeth  with  decisive  effect. 
In  his  native  wilds  he  is  not  a  very  timid  animal,  as 
may  be  inferred  from  the  experience  of  Dr.  Abbott.f 

*  An  anonymous  writer  in  Forest  and  Stream. 

f  "  It  was  past  noon,  and  rest  was  the  order  of  the  hour.  What 
creatures  I  saw  moved  with  great  leisure,  as  if  annoyed  that  they 
had  to  move  at  all.  The  mink  crept  along  the  prostrate  log  as 
though  stiff  in  every  joint,  but  when  at  the  end  of  his  short  journey 
I  whistled  shrilly,  with  what  animation  he  stood  erect  and  stared 
in  the  direction  of  the  sound !  Half  concealed  as  I  was,  the  mink 
saw  nothing  to  arouse  his  suspicions ;  he  was  merely  curious  or 
puzzled ;  he  was  thinking.  ...  He  did  not  move  a  muscle,  but 
stared  at  me.  Then  I  commenced  whistling  in  a  low  tone,  and 
the  animal  became  more  excited ;  he  moved  his  head  from  side  to 
side,  as  if  in  doubt,  and  needed  but  a  slight  demonstration  on  my 
part  to  convert  this  doubting  into  fear.  I  whistled  more  loudly, 
and  moved  my  arms;  in  an  instant  the  mink  disappeared." — Out- 
ings at  Odd  Times.  C.  C.  Abbott. 


TWO  FAMOUS  SWIMMERS.  151 

Elliott  Coues  describes  the  animal  in  its  wild  state, 
however,  as  being  anything  but  amiable  :  "  One  who 
has  not  taken  a  mink  in  a  steel  trap*  can  scarcely 
form  an  idea  of  the  terrible  expression  the  animal's 
face  assumes  as  the  captor  approaches.  It  has  always 
struck  me  as  the  most  nearly  diabolical  of  anything 
in  animal  physiognomy.  A  sullen  stare  from  the 
crouched,  motionless  form  gives  way  to  a  new  look 
of  surprise  and  fear,  accompanied  with  the  most  vio- 
lent contortions  of  the  body,  with  renewed  champ- 
ing of  the  iron  till  breathless,  with  heaving  flanks 
and  open  mouth  dribbling  saliva,  the  animal  settles 
again,  and  watches  with  a  look  of  concentrated 
hatred  mingled  with  impotent  rage  and  frightful 
despair.  The  countenance  of  the  mink — its  broad, 
low  head,  short  ears,  small  eyes,  piggish  snout,  and  for- 
midable teeth — is  always  expressive  of  the  lower  and 
more  brutal  passions,  all  of  which  are  intensified  at 
such  times.  As  may  well  be  supposed,  the  creature 
must  not  be  incautiously  dealt  with  when  in  such  a 
frame  of  mind." 

Unfortunately,  too,  the  mink  has  a  pair  of  anal 
glands  which  secrete  a  fluid  of  disgustingly  fetid  and 
offensive  odor,  which  is  pretty  sure  to  be  emitted 
when  the  animal  is  trapped.  Dr.  Merriam  says  of  it : 

*  When  caught  in  a  trap  by  the  leg  the  mink  is  very  apt  to 
gnaw  the  member  in  a  manner  most  painful  to  witness. 


152     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOKEST. 

"  It  is  the  most  execrable  smell  with  which  my  nos- 
trils have  as  jet  been  offended  ;  in  some  individuals 
it  is  only  more  powerful  and  offensive  than  it  is  in 
others." 

According  to  my  experience,  the  close- set,  bristly 
fur  is  never  without  some  remnant  of  the  bad  smell 
in  spite  of  all  proper  precautions  in  curing  it.  In  wet, 
winter  weather,  and  in  contact  with  the  natural  mois- 
ture and  heat  of  one's  neck,  the  "  minky "  smell  is  in 
strong  evidence.  To  me  the  odor  of  the  creature  is  far 
more  unpleasant  than  that  of  the  skunk ;  yet  Elliott 
Coues  does  not  seem  to  think  it  is  distressingly  bad. 
He  says :  "  No  animal  of  this  country,  except  the  skunk, 
possesses  so  powerful,  penetrating,  and  lasting  an 
effluvium.  ...  It  belongs  to  the  class  of  musky  (!) 
odors,  which  in  minute  quantities  are  not  disagree- 
able to  most  persons. 

Of  course,  de  gustibus  non  disputandum  •  I  can- 
didly admit  that  I  can  not  quite  agree  with  Elliott 
Coues  either  with  regard  to  the  musky  quality  or  the 
mild  offensiveness  of  the  perfume.  Perhaps  I  expe- 
rienced too  much  of  it  on  a  particular  occasion  long 
since. 

The  nest  of  the  mink  is  made  of  dried  leaves  piled 
together  about  the  thickness  of  an  inch  or  more,  and 
rounded  in  a  snug  hollow  lined  with  fur  and  feathers. 
It  is  generally  found  in  either  a  hollow  log  or  a  bur- 


TWO  FAMOUS  SWIMMERS.  153 

row.  There  are  from  four  to  six  young  produced 
in  the  latter  part  of  April  or  early  in  May.  But  one 
litter  is  raised  in  a  year.  By  nature  the  mink  is  not 
a  good  burrower,  and  often  the  female  avails  herself 
of  the  hole  of  a  muskrat  in  which  to  build  her  nest. 

Thirty  years  ago  the  fur  began  to  increase  steadily 
in  value  until  the  price  of  a  single  pelt  reached  five, 
and  even  ten,  dollars.  Dr.  Merriam  says  he  caught 
one  whose  skin  sold  for  fourteen  dollars ;  but  to-day 
the  highest  price  quoted  for  the  dark  Nova  Scotia 
and  Labrador  skins  is  two  dollars ;  those  from  'New 
York  and  New  England  bring  about  a  dollar  and 
a  half ;  and  of  the  more  southern  and  western  furs, 
those  from  northern  New  Jersey  to  Wisconsin  bring 
from  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  to  thirty  cents ;  and  those 
from  Ohio  to  Florida  and  Texas,  from  a  dollar  and 
twenty  cents  to  twenty  cents,  according  to  color — the 
darkest  fur  bringing  the  most  money. 

Now  the  mink  is  the  last  member  of  the  sub- 
family Mustelince,  which  is  an  important  and  large 
division  of  the  general  family  Mustelidce.  The  next 
subfamily  is  that  of  the  skunks,  Mephitince,  only  one 
member  of  which,  the  common  skunk  (Mephitis  me- 
phitica),  is  found  northeast  of  the  Mississippi,  and 
consequently  concerns  us.  But  the  skunk  is  so  com- 
mon and  important  an  individual  that,  a  little  fur- 
ther on,  I  have  devoted  a  whole  chapter  to  his  odor- 


154:     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

iferous  majesty,  and  thus  have  taken  him  out  of  his 
proper  position  in  the  family  just  here.  So  for  the 
present  we  will  give  the  skunk  a  wide  berth  and  pass 
on  to  his  next  relative ;  this  is  the  badger  (Taxidea 
americana\  of  the  next  subfamily  Melince,  another 
"Western  animal,  whose  eastern  limit  is  Wisconsin  and 
Iowa.  It  must  not  be  inferred  that  this  animal  is 
one  of  the  swimmers  indicated  in  the  heading  of  this 
chapter ;  he  only  happens  to  be  sandwiched  between 
the  two  swimmers  by  reason  of  his  relationship.  He 
is  a  burrower.  But  this  incorrigible  burrower,  whose 
hole  on  the  Western  plains  has  broken  more  than  one 
horse's  leg  and  given  more  than  one  rider's  scalp  to  the 
Indians,  this  miserable,  broad -backed  beast  of  secret 
and  unknown  habits,  is  too  distinctively  Western  to 
command  our  attention  ;  still,  we  will  listen  to  a  word 
about  him  from  Elliott  Coues,  and  then  pass  on.  He 
says :  "  I  have  found  badgers  in  countless  numbers 
nearly  throughout  the  region  of  the  upper  Missouri 
Eiver  and  its  tributaries.  I  do  not  see  how  they  could 
well  be  more  numerous  anywhere.  In  some  favorite 
stretches  of  sandy,  sterile  soil,  their  burrows  are 

i/  7 

everywhere.  ...  In  ordinary  journeying  one  has  to 
keep  a  constant  lookout  lest  his  horse  suddenly  goes 
down  under  him,  with  a  fore  leg  deep  in  a  badger  hole ; 
and  part  of  the  training  of  a  Western  horse  is  to  make 
him  look  out  for  and  avoid  these  pitfalls." 


TWO  FAMOUS  SWIMMERS. 


155 


Leaving  the  badger,  we  next  come  to  the  sab- 
family  Lutrince,  which  is  represented  by  the  single 
North  American  species  of  this  genus,  the  otter.  He 
is  not  very  familiar  through  the  well-settled  parts  of 
the  eastern  country,  but  is  still  to  be  found  in  the  wild 
woods,  on  the  borders  of  those  charming  lakes  in  the 
wildernesses  of  northern  New  York,  New  Hampshire, 
and  Maine. 

The  beautiful  otter  (Lutra  canadensis) — which  is 
a  splendid  swimmer  and  a  great  frequenter  of  moun- 
and  lakes  in  the  dense  spruce 
lock  forests  of  the  North — 
is  yet  reported  from  Lake 
Umbagog,  Maine,  and 
the  lake  regions 
farther  north- 
east,   the 
lakes  in 


tain    streams 
and  hem- 


The  Otter. 


the    Adirondack   wilderness,  the   northern   shore  of 
Lake    Superior,    and   Bayfield,  Wisconsin.      In   the 


156     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST.    ' 

South   he   is   common   in    the   wilds   of   Tennessee, 
^orth  Carolina,  and  West  Virginia. 

The  otter  is  amphibious  in  the  largest  sense  of  the 
word  ;  he  can  remain  under  water  as  long  as  a  loon, 
and  can  swim  a  quarter  of  a  mile  without  reappearing 
at  the  surface.  His  prey  generally  consists  of  fish  and 
crayfish,  but  he  also  has  a  taste  for  frogs,  muskrats, 
wild  duck,  and  poultry.  He  is  an  expert  swimmer : 
he  can  overtake  almost  any  fish,  not  excepting  the 
trout,  of  which  he  is  very  fond,  and  in  captivity  he  is 
partial  to  boiled  beef.  Dr.  Merriam  also  says  he  is 
remarkably  fond  of  crayfish  (Cambarus\  incredible 
quantities  of  which  he  destroys  during  the  summer. 

Otters  are  most  restless  creatures,  traveling  from 
lake  to  lake  and  river  to  river,  and  pursuing  either  a 
continuous  or  a  devious  course,  u  just  as  it  happens."  * 
They  travel  great  distances  in  winter,  and  are  with 
considerable  difficulty  overtaken  by  the  hunter,  so 
rapidly  do  they  progress.  They  propel  themselves 
over  the  slippery  ice  and  snow  with  their  hind  legs, 
and,  doubling  the*  fore  legs  under,  slide  downhill  and 
over  snowy  ridges  in  a  most  rapid  and  comical  fash- 
ion. With  the  impetus  gained  by  several  rapid 
jumps  on  the  ice  they  manage  to  cover  the  ground 
quicker  than  a  swift  runner  on  snowshoes. 

*  Animals  of  the  Adirondacks.    Dr.  Clinton  Hart  Merriam. 
Transactions  of  the  Linnaean  Society,  vol.  i. 


THE   OTTER. 

LUTRA   CANADENSIS   OR    LUTRA   HUDSONICA. 

"The  animal  apparently  enjoys  a 
regular  sort  of  toboggan  slide." 


TWO  FAMOUS  SWIMMERS.  157 

This  remarkable  propensity  for  sliding  is  one  of 
the  strangest  habits  of  the  otter.  That  the  animal 
should  apparently  enjoy  a  regular  sort  of  toboggan 
slide  is  almost  past  one's  comprehension.  But  such  is 
undoubtedly  the  case. 

Audubon  says :  "  The  otters  ascend  the  bank  at  a 
place  suitable  for  their  diversion,  and  sometimes  where 
it  is  very  steep,  so  that  they  are  obliged  to  make  quite 
an  effort  to  gain .  the  top.  They  slide  down  in  rapid 
succession  where  there  are  many  at  a  sliding  place. 
On  one  occasion  we  were  resting  ourselves  on  the 
bank  of  Canoe  Creek,  a  small  stream  near  Henderson, 
which  empties  into  the  Ohio,  when  a  pair  of  otters 
made  their  appearance,  and,  not  observing  our  prox- 
imity, began  to  enjoy  their  sliding  pastime.  .  .  .  We 
counted  each  one  making  twenty-two  slides  before  we 
disturbed  their  sportive  occupation." 

"  The  borders  of  lakes  and  streams  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks,"  says  Dr.  Merriam,  "  show  numerous  examples 
of  their  slides,  and  also  wallowing  places  in  which 
they  play  and  roll.  May's  Lake,  a  small  and  secluded 
body  of  water  abounding  in  trout,  is  fairly  surround- 
ed by  them."  * 

The  otter  is  an  intelligent  animal,  of  an  easy  and 
playful  disposition  that  easily  fits  it  for  domestication. 

*  Vide  Animals  of  the  Adirondacks. 


158     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

Audubon  tells  of  otters  which  he  had  seen  so  perfectly 
tamed  and  trained  that  they  never  failed  to  come  like 
dogs  when  whistled  for,  crawling  slowly  and  with  ap- 
parent humility  toward  their  master.  He  also  recites 
his  own  experience  in  taming  several  otters,  which 
eventually  he  had  the  pleasure  of  romping  with  in  his 
study.  They  were  captured  when  quite  young,  and 
became  as  gentle  as  puppies  in  two  or  three  days; 
they  preferred  milk  and  boiled  Indian  meal  to  fish 
or  meat,  and  would  not  touch  these  last  until  they 
were  several  months  old.  The  animals  are  not  only 
easily  tamed  and  domesticated,  but  it  is  said  that  they 
are  taught  to  catch  and  bring  home  fish  to  their 
masters ;  they  are  taught  to  fetch  and  carry  exactly 
as  dogs  are,  and  in  the  beginning  a  leather  fish  stuffed 
with  wool  is  employed  for  the  purpose ;  they  are 
afterward  exercised  with  a  dead  fish,  and  chastised  if 
they  disobey  or  attempt  to  tear  it ;  finally 
they  are  sent  into  the  water  after  a  live 
one.* 

The   peculiar  formation   of    the   nose 
The  otter's    pa(i     akout   an   inch   long   in    full-grown 

nose  pad. 

otters,  is  the  admirable  means  whereby 
the  animal  is  enabled  to  dive  and  swim  under  water 
without  inconvenience  to  the  breathing  organs.  I 

*  Bell's  Quadrupeds. 


TWO  FAMOUS  SWIMMERS.  159 

quote  what  Elliott  Coues  says  of  it :  "  In  general 
shape  it  is  an  equilateral  pentagon,  with  one  side 
inferior,  horizontal,  and  straight  across,  and  the  other 
side  on  either  hand  irregular,  owing  to  the  shape 
of  the  nasal  apertures,  the  two  remaining  sides  coin- 
ing together  obliquely  above  to  a  median  acute  angle 
high  above  a  line  drawn  across  the  tops  of  the  nos- 
trils. It  somewhat  resembles  the  ace  of  spades."  In 
a  word,  this  nose  pad  is  a  valve  which  closes  over  the 
nostrils  and  prevents  the  water 
from  entering  while  the  animal 
is  diving  or  swimming.  The 
otter  in  other  respects  is  much 
like  its  congeners  ;  the  body  is 
long  and  columnar,  about  two 
feet  or  more  from  the  tip  of  The  Otter1s  webbed  foot- 
the  nose  to  the  root  of  the  tail ;  the  head  is  globose, 
the  muzzle  very  obtuse,  the  eyes  and  ears  are  very 
small,  the  broad  feet  well  furred  and  webbed,  and 
the  tail  about  a  foot  long  and  slightly  flattened — 
i.  e.,  elliptical  in  transverse  section. 

The  nest  of  the  otter  is  built  under  some  shelving 
rock  or  uprooted  tree,  and  sometimes  in  the  hollow  of 
an  old  stamp.  The  young  are  brought  forth  about  the 
middle  of  April,  and  there  are  usually  two,  or  rarely 
three,  in  a  litter.  The  mother  and  young  generally 
remain  together  through  the  summer  and  autumn. 


160     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

The  skin  of  the  otter  is  usually  taken  from  the 
body  without  being  opened  lengthwise,  and  is  in  a 
prime  condition  in  November.  The  fur  is  seal  brown, 
with  beautiful  lustrous  long  hairs,  and  thick,  close 
under  hairs  of  a  rich  but  lighter  hue.  It  is  the  most 
valuable  fur  of  the  Mustelidce  family,  excepting  that 
of  the  sea  otter,  which  in  its  prime  condition  brings 
from  four  to  five  hundred  dollars  for  one  skin.  The 
otter's  skin  is  worth  from  three  to  ten  dollars,  ac- 
cording to  color,  the  darkest  fur  bringing  the  most 
money.  The  best  skins  come  from  Canada,  New 
England,  Lake  Superior,  and  the  Northwest.  Open 
skins  have  a  decreased  value  of  twenty  per  cent  on 
the  prices  quoted. 


CHAPTEK  X. 

THAT   FAMOUS  ESSENCE  PEDDLER, 
The  Skunk. 


the  twilight  wanes,  and  trees,  bushes,  and 
fences  become  vaguely  outlined  in  the  gathering 
dusk,  a  strange  little  animal,  somewhat  resembling 
a  black-and-white  cat,  ventures  from  his  daytime 
hiding  place,  and  we  are  aware  of  his  presence 
in  our  immediate  vicinity  by  a  pungent  and  offensive 
odor.  So,  with  bated  breath  and  the  suggestive  whis- 
per of  "  Skunk  !  "  we  quicken  our  footsteps  and  warily 
peer  into  the  shadows  on  either  hand  ;  but  alas  for 
the  luckless  one  who  stumbles  upon  the  little  creature 
in  the  hasty  effort  to  evade  it  !  Nothing  short  of  a 
Turkish  bath  and  a  complete  change  of  clothing  will 
ever  enable  him  to  regain  his  self-respect.  He  is  an 
outcast  from  society,  and,  like  the  leper  of  old,  must 
consider  himself  exiled  from  all  the  world. 

The  skunk  (Mephitis  mephitica)*  another  mem- 


*  The  Latin  name  means  a  foul-smelling  foul  smeller. 
12  1G1 


162     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

ber  of  the  Mustelidce  family,  belonging  to  the  group 
Mephitince,  is  one  of  those  few  wild  animals  with 
which  no  one  is  anxious  to  make  even  a  "  scraping 
acquaintance."  "  Distance,"  I  cautiously  remarked 


The  Skunk. 


one  time  to  a  skunk  which  appeared  directly  in  my 
path,  "  lends  enchantment  to  the  view ;  you  may 
have  the  right  of  way,  and  the  path,  too ! "  So  I 
gave  him  a  wide  berth,  beat  an  ignominious  retreat, 
and  breathed  again  when  the  atmosphere  regained  its 
purity.  One  always  feels  secure  at  ten  yards,  but 
within  that  distance,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
competent  authorities  set  the  line  of  safety  at  sixteen 
and  a  halffeet,  one  is  excusably  nervous. 

But,  putting  all  prejudice  aside,  the  skunk  is  not 
only  a  much-abused  animal,  but  one  whose  usefulness 
can  not  be  overestimated.  Let  us  see  what  he  feeds 


THAT  FAMOUS   ESSENCE   PEDDLER.  163 

upon  :  mice,  salamanders,  grasshoppers,  beetles,  larvae, 
grubs,  and  caterpillars.*  This  is  not  a  bad  list,  and, 
taking  into  consideration  the  fact  that  he  makes  away 
with  a  vast  number  of  mice  and  grasshoppers,  besides 
those  insects  which  are  peculiarly  destructive  to  the 
hopvine,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  Legislature  of 
the  State  of  New  York  seriously  considered  a  bill 
many  years  ago  for  his  protection.  Truth  to  tell,  he 
eats  more  insects  than  any  other  mammal,  f  if  we  are 
to  believe  the  testimony  of  at  least  three  eminent 
naturalists,  and  it  follows  that  he  must  be  of  great 
service  to  the  farmer. 

Some  years  ago  I  carne  to  the  conclusion,  based 
upon  a  few  observations,  that  the  skunk  was  not  only 
an  interesting  and  useful  animal,  but  a  very  beautiful 
one,  so  far  as  his  coat  was  concerned,  and  that  so- 
ciety in  general,  particularly  drawing-room  society, 
was  not  paying  him  the  attention  he  deserved.  To 
be  sure,  the  skunk  may  not  be  an  appropriate  topic 
for  the  drawing-room,  nevertheless  his  name  is  often 
whispered  there,  for  the  reason  that  his  domain  is 
now  undoubtedly  encroached  upon  by  the  outposts  of 
refined  civilization.  The  refuse  tub  of  more  than  one 


*  I  admit  that  he  unfortunately  robs  the  henroost  at  times. 

f  The  excrement  of  the  skunk  consists  almost  wholly  of  the  in- 
digestible parts  of  insects,  such  as  the  black  shells  of  beetles,  legs 
of  grasshoppers,  etc. ;  it  is  remarkably  black. 


FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

modern  stately  colonial  residence  has  been  visited  by 
him,  and  the  evidence  of  his  presence  has  wafted  in 
the  open  window  of  the  parlor  during  a  warm  sum- 
mer evening  and  changed  the  countenance  of  many 
a  stickler  for  propriety.  Now,  if  the  hostess  should 
remonstrate  with  the  intrusive  skunk,  and  the  latter 
could  speak,  he  would  undoubtedly  reply  with  some 
assurance,  "  If  you  do  not  like  my  neighborhood  and 
kind  of  perfumery  you  should  not  have  located  on 
my  territory ;  your  drawing-room,  like  a  weed,  is  a 
thing  out  of  place  !  "  The  greater  part  of  the  coun- 
try has  always  been  the  skunk's,  and  the  site  of  one 
of  our  great  cities  (Chicago)  *  was  once  his  favorite 
stamping  ground.  But,  as  I  shall  attempt  to  prove,  he 
deserves  more  attention  and  less  evasion  ;  perhaps  if 
we  knew  more  about  him  his  character  would  grow 
in  our  estimation,  and  we  might  cease  to  consider  him 
the  "  most  disgusting  thing  in  all  creation."  Interest 
in  so  remarkable  an  animal,  therefore,  induced  me  to 
search  through  his  record  and  find  some  naturalist 
who  would  know  all  about  him.  It  must  be  confessed 
that  there  is  some  difficulty  in  picking  up  knowledge 
about  an  animal  which  one  does  not  dare  to  approach 
nearer  than  ten  yards.  To  bridge  over  that  ten  yards 
by  another's  experience,  instead  of  pursuing  investi- 

*  The  Indian  name  Chicago  means  the  place  of  the  skunk. 


THAT  FAMOUS  ESSENCE  PEDDLEK.  165 

gations  at  close  range,  would  promise  at  least  to  be  a 
method  of  procedure  involving  no  expense  in  the 
matter  of  clothing.  At  last  I  found  a  man  who  had 
at  different  times  no  less  than  ten  pet  skunks — one 
for  each  of  my  ten  yards.  "  Bravo  !  "  I  said ;  "  Dr. 
Clinton  Hart  Merriam  has  built  the  bridge.  Any 
man  who  has  had  the  pluck  to  tame  ten  skunks 
undoubtedly  knows  the  animal  better  than  all  the 
rest  of  the  wise  heads  put  together."  And  so  it 
proved. 

But  before  we  look  at  the  skunk  through  the  eyes 
of  the  scientist,  we  will  steal  a  glance  at  him  in  broad 
daylight — a  somewhat  difficult  thing  to  do,  as  he  is 
nocturnal  in  his  habits,  sleeps  all  day,  and  is  rarely 
seen  before  the  sun  goes  down.  He  is  about  as  large 
as  a  small  cat  (I  must  not  be  taken  too  literally,  for 
skunks  greatly  vary  in  size).  The  head  is  small,  the 
snout  pointed — something  like  that  of  the  European 
badger — and  the  long-clawed  fore  legs,  which  he  uses 
to  dig  with,  are  disproportionately  short.  In  figure  he 
is  not  a  bit  graceful,  and  his  walk  or  hop  is  decidedly 
awkward.  His  coat  is  black,  long-haired,  and  with 
little  or  no  white  markings  in  some  cases,  while  in 
others  it  is  traced  over  the  back  with  two  distinct 
white  stripes,  which  gradually  merge  into  one  at 
the  neck.  The  crown  is  usually  white,  and  the  fore- 
head marked  with  a  narrow  white  stripe.  His  tail  is 


166     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

large,  bushy,  long-haired,  black,  and  terminates  in  a 
buff- white  tuft. 

He  is  the  most  deliberate  little  beast  that  ever 
prowled  along  the  highway.  A  moonlit  night  is 
apparently  his  delight,  and  if  we  meet 
him  then  he  is  more  easily  recognized 
by  his  measured  tread  and  cat-like  fig- 
ure than  by  his  color. 
Even  when  frightened 
he  does  not  break  into 
much  more  than  a  hob- 
bling gallop,  and  a  horse 

at  an  easy  trot  would  '  b^.^vifoW**** :>*;* 

outstrip    him.*      Not 
infrequently  he  is  run      The  skunk' showing  the  white  marks  on 

J  the  forehead  and  flank. 

down    in    crossing    a 

road,  and  then — well,  the  country  is  perfumed  within 
a  circle  a  mile  in  circumference.  As  for  the  horse 
and  wagon,  they  might  as  well  be  buried  on  the  spot. 
The  skunk  is  not  only  slow,  but  remarkably  curi- 
ous. I  observed  one  once,  on  a  moonlit  night,  in- 
vestigate a  box  trap  which  I  had  made  for  squirrels ; 
he  scanned  it  cautiously  first  on  one  side,  then  on  the 
other,  peeped  inside,  and  sniffed  along  the  edges  in 
the  same  manner  as  a  dog.  At  length,  after  appear- 

*  One  night  last  summer  one  followed  beside  my  horse  at  a 
slow  trot  for  some  distance  without  making  himself  disagreeable. 


THAT   FAMOUS  ESSENCE   PEDDLER. 

ing  to  meditate  for  a  moment,  he  apparently  came  to 
the  conclusion  it  was  "no  good,"  and  marched  off. 
Later  on  in  the  season,  his  visits  to  the  cottage  prov- 
ing too  numerous  to  be  interesting,  he  was  caught  in 
a  steel  trap  and  shot — an  ill-advised  way, 
as  I  shall  hereafter  show,  of  disposing  of 
him.  Dr.  Mer- 
riam,  in  his  ad- 
mirable mono- 
graph on  the 
skunk,*  tells  of  one 
which  peeped  in  the 
door  of  his  museum,  climbed 
up  on  the  sill,  scrutinized  Trapped, 

him  with  the  keenest  of  black 

eyes,  and  then  began  to  stamp  and  scold  saucily, 
finally  backing  out  and  into  a  beech  tree  near  by, 
which  so  surprised  him  that  he  whirled  about  tail 
up,  growled  excitedly,  and  scampered  off  among  the 
bushes. 

The  skunk  makes  frequent  visits  to  the  farmhouse, 
around  by  the  kitchen  way,  but  usually  at  seasons 
when  insects,  particularly  grasshoppers  and  beetles, 
are  scarce.  I  never  knew  him  to  attack  a  rat,  but  I 
have  seen  frequent  evidences  of  his  destruction  of  field 

*  Vide  Transactions  of  the  Linnaean  Society,  vol.  i. 


168     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

mice  and  their  nests.  These  he  digs  out  with  his  long 
claws,  and  whole  families  go  to  make  up  his  evening 
meal.  He  prowls  around  the  wood  pile,  evidently 
after  mice,  and  Dr.  Abbott*  relates  an  incident 
humorous  enough  to  bear  repetition  here. 

u  The.  old  wood  pile  was  not  infrequently  the  hid- 
ing place  of  one  or  more  of  these  l  varmints,'  which 
raided  the  henroost,  kept  the  old  dog  in  a  fever  of 
excitement,  and  baffled  the  trapping  skill  of  the  oldest 
1  hands'  upon  the  farm.  .  .  .  With  what  glee  do  I  re- 
call an  autumn  evening  years  ago,  when  the  unusually 
furious  barking  of  the  old  mastiff  brought  the  whole 
family  to  the  door.  In  the  dim  twilight  the  dog  could 
be  seen  dashing  at  and  retreating  from  the  wood  pile, 
and  at  once  the  meaning  of  the  hubbub  was  appar- 
ent :  some  creature  had  taken  refuge  there.  A  lan- 
tern was  brought,  and,  as  every  man  wished  to  be  the 
hero  of  the  hour,  my  aunt  held  the  light.  The  wood 
pile  was  surrounded,  every  stick  was  quickly  over- 
turned, and  finally  a  skunk  was  dislodged.  Confused, 
or  attracted  by  the  light,  .  .  .  the  4  varmint '  made 
straightway  for  the  ample  skirts  of  the  old  lady,  fol- 
lowed by  the  dog,  and,  in  a  second,  skunk,  dog,  lady, 
and  lantern  were  one  indistinguishable  mass!  My 
aunt  proved  the  heroine  of  the  evening,  nor  did  the 

*  Outings  at  Odd  Times.     Dr.  C.  C.  Abbott. 


THAT  FAMOUS  ESSENCE  PEDDLER.  169 

men  object.  I  often  pause  at  the  very  spot,  and 
fancy  that  '  the  scent  of  the  roses '  doth  '  hang  round 
it  still.'  " 

The  home  of  the  skunk  is  usually  in  some  corner 
of  the  pasture,  Or  perhaps  on  the  shrubby  border  of 
the  road  sloping  toward  the  streamlet  on  the  meadow. 
Frequently  he  accepts  a  new  clearing  as  a  convenient 
home,  and  digs  a  hole  for  his  nest  under  an  old  stump. 
The  hole  is  small,  cleanly  cut,  and  is  generally 
without  the  slightest  odor — but  that  depends.  Prob- 
ably, if  a  large  family — say,  from  six  to  nine  mem- 
bers— remains  in  one  domicile  all  winter,  there  is  an 
appreciable  odor  in  the  vicinity.  But  it  is  a  mistake 
to  suppose  the  animal  is  not  cleanly ;  the  adults  are 
very  careful  in  the  employment  of  their  weapon  of 
defense,  and  they  do  not  use  it  except  when  they  are 
in  a  dilemma.  This  is  my  conclusion,  based  upon 
considerable  observation;  and  the  fact  that  I  have 
often  met  the  strange  little  creature  without  having 
experienced  any  disastrous  consequences,  inclines  me 
to  believe  that  he  is  not  aggressive.  Give  him  a  wide 
berth,  and  avoid  a  surprise  or  anything  like  a  sudden 
movement,  and  he  will  not  put  himself  on  the  defen- 
sive. Dr.  Merriam  is  of  the  same  opinion.  He  says 
that  not  one  skunk  in  twenty  will  smell  when  caught 
in  a  steel  trap,  and  that  a  person  may  drag  both  trap 
and  skunk  by  the  chain  without  danger  if  he  proceeds 


170     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

very  slowly  and  without  making  a  sudden  move; 
"but,"  he  adds,  "a  young  one  squirts  upon  insuffi- 
cient provocation  " — a  dubious  fact  which,  to  say  the 
least,  is  disconcerting  to  the  inexperienced,  who  can 
not  be  expected  to  "  size  up  "  a  skunk  in  a  jiffy  and 
run  if  it  should  prove  "  ower  young !  " 

The  skunk  is  so  common  an  animal  all  over  the 
country  that  his  unique  method  of  defense  is  thereby 
proved  to  be  quite  as  effective  as  any  other  means  of 
protection  common  in  animal  life.  I  do  not  know  of 
any  animal  that  preys  upon  the  skunk.  Other  crea- 
tures, however  well  provided  with  means  of  defense, 
find  their  match ;  even  the  porcupine,  in  spite  of  his 
quills,  falls  a  prey  to  his  arch  enemy,  the  fisher ;  but 
all  creation  seems  to  "  draw  the  line  "  at  the  skunk, 
and  he  lives  a  comparatively  unmolested  life.  The 
miserable  dog  who  has  had  an  experience  rolls  him- 
self in  the  grass  or  dirt,  resorts  to  the  pond,  looks 
quite  crestfallen  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  and  shows 
by  an  evasive  eye  that  he  has  lost  every  atom  of  his 
self-respect. 

Having  perfect  confidence  in  his  means  of  defense, 
the  skunk  is  perhaps  the  least  timid  of  all  the  smaller 
animals  except  the  weasels,  whose  audacity  and  calm 
assurance  are  simply  unparalleled.  But  the  skunk 
and  weasel  are  not  overconfident ;  there  is  everything 
to  justify  one's  self-confidence  when  the  world  flees 


THAT   FAMOUS  ESSENCE   PEDDLER. 

before  one's  presence.  If  we  meet  a  skunk,  we  run ; 
it  is  the  hereditary  habit  of  a  skunk  from  the  time 
he  is  born  to  feel  sure  we  would  run.  Just  so  with 
the  weasel :  he  is  apparently  born  with  the  conscious- 
ness that  the  first  rat  he  meets  will  shriek  in  terror 
and  flee  for  his  life.  But  the  superior  mind  of  man 
is  more  than  the  skunk  can  cope  with  ;  consequently 
the  poor  unsuspecting  creature  falls  not  only  into 
every  trap  that  is  set  for  him,  but  into  every  trap  set 
for  another  animal ;  and  if  there  is  anything  exasper- 
ating about  trapping,  it  is  the  discovery  of  a  skunk  in 
one's  fox  trap.  Dr.  Merriam  relates  how  a  number 
of  these  animals  can  be  easily  captured,  somewhat 
thus :  *  "In  winter  the  hunter  treads  down  the  snow 
from  the  entrance  of  the  skunk's  hole  into  a  narrow 
path,  and  sets  a  number  of  steel  traps  at  certain  inter- 
vals along  the  route ;  at  nightfall,  when  the  mother 
comes  out  the  young  ones  follow  her  lead,  single  file, 
down  the  path ;  the  first  trap  near  the  hole  catches 
number  one;  the  others  climb  over  the  obstruction 
and  move  on  until  a  second  trap  snaps  on  another ; 
then  the  third  trap  catches  still  another,  and  so  on 
until  the  whole  family  is  taken  in  a  single  night." 


*  My  quotations  are  not  taken  verbatim,  because  a  slight  con- 
densation here  and  there  became  necessary  to  save  the  limited 
amount  of  space  at  my  command  ;  but  in  each  case  I  have  rigidly 
adhered  to  every  important  point. 


172     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN   FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

This  seems  rather  stupid  of  the  skunk,  but  it  is  sim- 
L  '  j  the  logical  result  of  his  dependence  upon  a  special 
means  of  defense ;  a  trap  is  a  machination  of  man 
with  which  he  can  not  reckon,  but  with  man  himself 
he  will  reckon  when  he  comes  around  for  the  trap. 
In  this  respect  his  method  of  warfare  is  not  unlike 
tnat  of  the  primitive  Chinese,  who  threw  among  the 
enemy  vessels  called  "  stink  pots  "  filled  with  noxious 
and  suffocating  fumes,  which  cleared  the  field  quite  as 
effectively  as  shot  and  shell. 

But  now,  for  the  scientific  point  of  view  regarding 
this  interesting  animal,  we  must  turn  to  Dr.  Merriam.* 
He  had  at  different  times  ten  live  skunks  in  confine- 
ment, all  quite  young  and  consequently  small — from 
four  to  ten  inches  long.  From  some  of  these  he  re- 
moved the  scent  pouches,  but  the  greater  number 
were  left  in  a  state  of  nature ;  these,  he  says,  never 
emitted  any  odor.  A  particularly  clever  skunk  from 
whom  he  had  removed  the  scent  pouches  proved  to  be 
a  great  pet,  sleeping  in  his  pocket  while  he  was  driv- 
ing about  on  his  professional  duties,  and  walking  close 
at  his  heels  when  he  took  an  occasional  stroll  after 
supper.  If  he  walked  too  fast,  the  little  creature 
would  stop,  scold,  and  stamp  with  his  fore  feet ;  if  he 
persisted  in  his  rapid  walk,  he  would  turn  about  and 

*  Vide  Transactions  of  the  Linnaean  Society,  vol.  i. 


g  1 

l 


THAT  FAMOUS  ESSENCE  PEDDLER.  173 

make  off  in  the  opposite  direction ;  but  if  he  stopped 
and  called  him,  he  would  return  at  an  ambling  pace 
and  soon  catch  up.  Frequently  the  doctor  walked  to 
a  certain  meadow  where  grasshoppers  were  plenty, 
and  there  the  little  fellow  would  revel  in  his  favorite 
food.  When  the  grasshoppers  jumped  he  would  jump 
after  them,  and  frequently  he  would  have  as  many  as 
three  in  his  mouth  and  two  under  his  fore  paws  at  a 
time ;  in  fact,  he  would  often  eat  so  many  that  his 
distended  stomach  would  drag  on  the  ground.  When 
young,  the  courageous  little  creature  would  often 
tackle  a  horned  beetle,  and  he  got  many  a  nip  in 
consequence.  When  he  caught  a  mouse  he  would 
devour  it  all,  and  growl  and  stamp  his  feet  if  any  one 
came  near  while  he  was  thus  engaged.  He  was  a 
playful  animal,  and  the  doctor  records  a  curious  habit 
that  he  had  of  clawing  at  his  trousers  for  fun,  and 
then  scampering  off  with  the  hope  of  a  chase. 

Regarding  the  skunk's  most  dreaded  perfume,  the 
doctor  gives  us  the  following  concise  account :  "  His 
chief  weapon  of  defense  lies  in  the  secretion  of  a  pair 
of  anal  glands  that  lie  on  either  side  of  the  rectum 
and  are  imbedded  in  a  dense,  gizzardlike  mass  of 
muscle,  which  serves  to  compress  them  so  forcibly 
that  the  contained  liquid  may  be  ejected  to  the  dis- 
tance of  from  thirteen  to  sixteen  and  a  half  feet. 
Each  pouch  is  furnished  with  a  single  duct  that  leads 


174     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

into  a  prominent  nipplelike  papilla  that  is  capable  of 
being  protruded  from  the  anus,  and  by  means  of 
which  the  direction  of  the  jet  is  governed.  The  secre- 
tion is  a  clear  fluid,  amber  or  gold-yellow  in  color, 
has  an  intensely  acid  reaction,  and  in  the  evening  is 
slightly  luminous.  On  standing  in  a  bottle,  a  floccu- 
lent  whitish  precipitate  separates  and  falls  to  the  bot- 
tom. The  fluid  sometimes  shows  a  greenish  cast,  and 
it  always  possesses  an  odor  that  is  characteristic  and 
in  some  respects  unique.  Its  all-pervading,  penetrat- 
ing, and  lasting  properties  are  too  well  known  to  re- 
quire more  than  a  passing  comment.  A  well-closed 
house  in  winter  became  permeated  by  the  scent  with- 
in five  minutes'  time  after  a  skunk  had  been  killed  at 
a  distance  of  nearly  twenty  rods.  The  more  humid 
the  air  is  and  the  higher  the  temperature,  the  farther 
the  scent  is  discernible  and  the  longer  it  lasts.  Un- 
der favorable  conditions  it  is  certainly  distinctly  rec- 
ognizable at  the  distance  of  a  mile.  De  Kay  quotes  a 
statement  from  the  Medical  Repository  that  a  Dr. 
Wiley,  of  Block  Island,  distinctly  perceived  the  smell 
of  a  skunk  although  the  nearest  land  was  twenty 
miles  distant. 

"  The  marked  difference  in  the  intensity  of  the 
scent  in  different  skunks  is  chiefly  due  to  the  age  of 
the  particular  animal  from  which  it  emanates.  It 
is  quite  overpowering  when  there  has  been  no  dis- 


THAT  FAMOUS  ESSENCE  PEDDLER.  175 

charge  for  some  time  and  it  seems  to  have  become 
concentrated.  When  recently  ejected  the  fumes  are 
suffocatingly  pungent,  extremely  irritating  to  the 
air  passages,  and,  I  have  no  doubt,  are  capable  of 
producing  oedema  of  the  glottis,  as  are  the  fumes  of 
strong  ammonia;  and  when  inhaled  without  a  large 
admixture  of  atmosphere,  the  victim  loses  conscious- 
ness, breathing  becomes  stertorous,  the  temperature 
falls,  the  pulse  slackens,  and  if  the  inhalation  is  pro- 
longed the  result  doubtlessly  proves  fatal."  * 

Dr.  Merriam  does  not  consider  the  perfume  of 
the  skunk  one  tenth  as  disagreeable  and  disgustingly 
nauseating  as  the  secretions  from  the  corresponding 
glands  of  many  other  members  of  the  Mustelidce, 
particularly  the  weasel  and  mink.  Nor  do  I.  There 
is  nothing  putrid  about  the  smell  of  the  skunk ;  it  is 
undoubtedly  pungent  and  suffocating  at  times,  but  it 
is  never  sickening. 

The  skunk  is  a  hibernating  animal,  but  he  does 
not  sleep  all  winter  long ;  during  the  greater  part  of 

*  There  is  a  case  on  record  where  mischievous  schoolboys 
forced  one  of  their  number  to  inhale  from  a  two-ounce  vial  a 
large  quantity  of  skunk  perfume  with  somewhat  serious  conse- 
quences. The  victim  became  unconscious,  muscular  relaxation 
followed,  the  temperature  fell  to  94°,  the  pulse  to  65,  and  the  ex- 
tremities grew  cold.  The  patient  was  unconscious  for  an  hour, 
but  finally  recovered  after  the  administration  of  hot  pediluvia 
and  stimulants. —  Vide  Virginia  Medical  Monthly,  vol.  viii,  No.  5, 
August,  1881. 


176     FAMILIAR  LIFE   IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

January  and  February  he  keeps  in  his  hole,  especially 
if  the  weather  is  severe ;  but  upon  the  first  appear- 
ance of  a  genuine  thaw  in  March,  just  about  maple- 
sugar  time,  he  is  abroad  again.  Dr.  Merriam  states 
that  he  has  seen  skunks  scampering  over  the  snow  in 
midwinter  when  the  mercury  stood  at  20°.  He  also 
says  that  they  have  large  families — from  six  to  ten 
young — all  the  members  of  which  remain  in  the  same 
hole  until  spring,  but  that  not  more  than  two  adult 
skunks  have  ever  been  found  in  a  hole  at  any  one 
time. 

It  is  not  generally  known,  perhaps,  that  the  fur  of 
the  skunk  is  quite  long,  thick,  glossy  black,  and  there- 
fore valuable.  The  wholesale  price  of  the  finest  skins, 
which  come  from  New  York,  Pennsylvania,  and  Ohio, 
is  from  eighty-five  to  ninety  cents  each  ;  the  poorest, 
or  fourth-grade  skins,  are  worth  only  ten  cents.  The 
fur  eventually  "  made  up  "  goes  by  any  other  name 
than  skunk — generally  Alaska  sable  and  black  marten. 

Of  course  thousands  of  the  little  animals  are  killed 
each  year  for  the  sake  of  their  skins,  and  it  is  a  fact, 
as  Dr.  Merriam  explains,  that  no  one  knows  how  to 
kill  them.  His  method  is  so  simple  and  sure  that  I 
think  it  should  be  given  a  place  here.  "  The  skunk's 
back,"  he  says,  "  must  be  broken  by  a  smart  blow  from  a 
heavy  stick,"  and  he  adds  :  "  If  the  animal  is  in  a  trap, 
approach  cautiously  and  slowly  ;  if  you  go  too  fast  he 


THAT  FAMOUS  ESSENCE   PEDDLER.  177 

will  elevate  his  tail,  present  bis  rear,  and  assume  an 
uncomfortably  suspicious  attitude.  Give  him  a  little 
time,  and  he  will  about  face  and  peer  at  you  again 
with  his  little,  keen,  black  eyes.  Now  advance  a  little 
nearer,  be  sure  of  your  aim,  and  when  you  strike, 
strike  hard.  The  main  thing  is  to  keep  cool  and  not 
strike  too  soon.  On  receiving  the  blow  his  hinder 
parts  settle  helplessly  upon  the  ground,  and  the  tail, 
which  was  carried  high  over  the  back,  now  straightens 
out  behind,  limp  and  powerless.  As  a  rule,  the  head 
soon  droops  and  the  skunk  expires." 

A  heavy  blow  on  the  back  given  by  a  pole  (not 
too  long),  the  doctor  further  explains,  injures  the 
spine  and  thus  produces  paralysis,  or  a  complete  loss 
of  power  in  the  muscles  supplied  by  those  nerves 
which  radiate  from  the  spinal  column  just  below  its 
point  of  injury.  By  shooting  or  decapitating  the  ani- 
mal the  ensuing  death  struggle  inevitably  brings 
about  a  discharge  of  the  scent.  Audubon,  however, 
testifies  to  the  contrary ;  nevertheless,  my  own  expe- 
rience teaches  me  that  Dr.  Merriam  is  right  and  Au- 
dubon is  wrong.  If  there  are  those  who  wish  to 
satisfy  themselves  on  this  point,  let  them  practice  on 
the  skunk  with  a  revolver,  and  escape  the  perfume  if 
possible.  Also,  it  is  not  true  that  the  animal  limits 
himself  to  one  discharge ;  he  is  quite  equal  to  several, 

if  there  are  sufficiently  serious  provocations. 
13 


178     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

There  seems  to  be  a  universal  and  absurd  theory 
that  the  skunk  scatters  the  scent  with  his  tail ;  this 
is  an  altogether  mistaken  and  ridiculous  notion  scarce- 
ly worthy  of  passing  comment,  for  it  is  evident  that 
he  elevates  the  tail  not  only  from  cleanly  motives, 
but  because  it  would  seriously  interfere  with  his  aim. 

There  is  one  more  fallacious  idea  connected  with 
the  skunk,  and  that  is  that  his  bite  is  attended  by  a 
species  of  rabies — Rabies  mephitica*  as  it  has  been 
called.  This  is  all  nonsense,  and  absurdly  contrary 
to  the  "  germ  theory  "  of  disease  which  meets  univer- 
sal acceptance  among  physicians  to-day.  A  skunk 
bitten  by  a  dog  or  any  animal  afflicted  with  rabies 
might  transmit  that  disease  again  by  his  bite ;  but 
without  such  an  occurrence  the  bite  of  the  skunk  will 
be  a  bite,  and  nothing  more.  It  is  true  that  his  teeth 
are  sharp  and  that  they  can  inflict  severe  wounds,  but 
nothing  more  unless  he  is  diseased. 

Probably  there  are  few  of  us  who  could  imagine 
the  flesh  of  the  skunk  furnishing  a  dainty  and  choice 
dish  for  one's  dinner;  but,  according  to  Dr.  Merriam, 
it  is  far  more  delicate  -than  the  tenderest  chicken.  I 
quote  what  he  has  to  say  on  the  subject  with  the  same 

*  This  strange  theory  was  not  only  exhaustively  treated  in  an 
article  in  Forest  and  Stream  (vide  vol.  xvi,  No.  24,  page  473)  by 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Hovey,  but  was  seriously  considered  by  Elliott  Coues 
in  a  later  writing;  see  his  Fur-bearing  Animals. 


THAT  FAMOUS  ESSENCE   PEDDLER.  179 

confidence  in  his  judgment  and  admiration  for  his 
bravery  that  I  have  already  expressed.  He  says  :  "  1 
am  able  to  speak  on  this  point  from  ample  personal 
experience,  having  eaten  its  flesh  cooked  in  a  variety 
of  ways — boiled,  broiled,  roasted,  fried,  and  fricasseed 
— and  am  prepared  to  assert  that  a  more  "  toothsome 
bit"  than  a  broiled  skunk  is  hard  to  get,  and  rarely 
finds  its  way  to  the  table  of  the  epicure." 

Hose  olim  meminisse  juvabit ;  but  the  next  time 
we  meet  a  skunk  it  will  be  just  as  well  for  us — now 
we  have  learned  of  his  superior  character  but  still 
lack  that  confidence  which  it  ought  to  inspire — to  def- 
erentially step  aside  at  least  sixteen  and  a  half  feet ! 


CHAPTEE  XL 

THE  KING  OF  THE   WILDERNESS. 
The  Black  Bear. 

THE  king  of  the  wilderness,  if  the  term  has  a  rea- 
sonable application  to  any  one  of  our  wild  animals,  is 
undoubtedly  the  black  bear  (  TJrsus  americanus).  He 


The  Bear. 

is  a  humorous  creature  withal,  from  a  certain  restrict- 
ed point  of  view,  and  his  dignity  suffers  in  conse- 
quence. At  the  very  mention  of  a  bear  we  are  in- 
clined to  be  amused  and  interested,  and  it  depends 
180 


THE  KING  OF  THE  WILDERNESS. 


181 


upon  circumstances  whether  we  smile  or  feel  our  hair 
stand  on  end.  Most  likely  the  latter  happens  when, 
without  a  rifle,  we  accidentally  meet  him  in  the  wilds 
of  the  evergreen  forest;  here  he  is  every  inch  a 
king,  but,  alas !  an  arrant  coward — that  is,  under 
all  ordinary  conditions. 

In  captivity  his  humorous  nature  comes  to  the 
front.     Not  long  a^o,  when  I  visited  a  certain  wild 

o       o    ' 

animal  "  show,"  every  beast,  except- 
ing   those    in    the    monkey 
cage,  appeared  to  take  life 
most  seriously;  but  when  I 
stood  before  two  black  bears 
all  appearance  of  serious- 
ness came  to  an  end. 


Here  a  jolly  couple 
were          thumping 
about  their  narrow 
quarters,  apparent- 
ly trying  to  swal- 
low  each    other 
crosswise,      and 
A  joiiy  couple.  evidently  enjoy- 

ing   the     sport 

with  as  much  gusto  as  college  students  do  the  rush 
in  a  game  of  football.  Later  on  they  subsided  to  the 
milder  amusement  of  swallowing  huge  slices  of  bread  ; 


182     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


but   even   this  was   done   playfully,  as  though  they 
didn't  care  a  rap  for  such  staff. 

But  even  in  his  native  wilds  the  black  bear  is  ex- 
tremely interesting,  and  riot  without  some  irresistibly 
amusing  traits  of  character,  for  if  he  should  happen 
to  visit  the  lumberman's  camp  while  the  latter  is 
abroad,  he  will  handle  the  jug  of  molasses  he  may 
find  there  with  as  much  ease  as  a  toper  handles  a  jug 

of  rum.  Indeed, 
he  is  particular- 
ly partial  to  mo- 
lasses and  pork, 
and  his  visits  to 
camp  are  far 
from  rare. 

The  black 
bear  is  quite 
common  in  many 
of  the  wilder- 
nesses North 

and  South  from  Maine  to  Mississippi.  He  is  yet 
frequently  found  in  the  evergreen  forests  of  the 
White,  Green,  Adirondack,  and  Catskill  Mountains. 
As  recently  as  last  summer,  at  a  house  not  far  from 
my  cottage  in  the  White  Mountain  region,  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  feeding  a  young  one  in  captivity  with 
a  pocketful  of  ginger  snaps,  which  he  took  very 


The  Black  Bear  in  the  woods. 


H  < 

ffi  3 
o  o; 

3 


THE  KING  OF  THE  WILDERNESS.  183 

respectfully  and  carefully  in  his  mouth,  never  offer- 
ing to  grab.  Dr.  Merriam  states  that  in  1883  many 
bears  dwelt  in  an  evergreen  forest  in  Lewis  County, 
New  York,  twenty  miles  west  of  the  border  of  the 
Adirondack  wilderness  ;  in  the  autumn  they  were 
in  the  habit  of  crossing  the  intervening  valley  and 
entering  the  Adirondack  region,  passing  quite  near 
the  town  of  Leyden,  his  home.  Here,  within  six 
miles  of  his  residence,  nine  bears  were  killed  in 
October,  1877.*  Bears  frequent  the  woods  in  the 
vicinity  of  Mount  Chocorua,  in  the  White  Mountains, 
and  they  still  haunt  those  giant  peaks  of  the  Sandwich 
range  which  overlook  the  pleasant  valley  of  the  Bear- 
camp  Water. 

During  the  winter  of  1873  several  bears  were 
killed  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Twin  Mountain  House, 
White  Mountains  ;  and  I  recollect  a  young  one,  tame 
and  intelligent,  a  great  pet  with  the  guests  of  the 
hotel  in  the  succeeding  summer,  whose  special  delight 
was  a  bit  of  maple  sugar  or  a  slice  of  cake.  Most  of 
the  afternoon  he  circumambulated  about  the  heavy 
stake  to  which  he  was  chained,  and  occasionally  took 
a  sitz  bath  in  the  tub  provided  for  his  comfort.  One 
of  his  favorite  performances  was  to  balance  himself 
crosswise  on  the  edge  of  the  tub  with  three  paws, 

*  Vide  Transactions  of  the  Linnaean  Society,  vol.  i.     Animals 
of  the  Adirondacks.    By  Clinton  Hart  Merriam,  M.  D. 


184     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


and  claw  a  stick  out  of  the  water  with  the  remain- 
ing one. 

Of  late  years  it  is  probable  that  extremely  few 
bears  have  been  found  in  the  Catskill  woods ;  but  I 
remember  as  a  boy  a  great  sportsman's  resort  on  the 
eastern  slope  of  the  hills  not  far  from  Cairo,  called 
Barney  Butts' s,  where  bearskins  and  tame  bears  years 
ago  were  almost  as  common  as  chipmunks  are  now. 

One  unfortunate  young 
bruin  which  I  remember 
better  than  the  others 
had  lost  a  paw  in  a 
steel  trap ;  it  was  said 
that  he  had  gnawed 
it  off  (a  not  uncom- 
mon thing  for  a 
trapped  bear  to  do), 
escaped,  and  was  recaptured  after  tracing  his  blood- 
stained tracks  over  the  frozen  snow.  The  limb 
eventually  healed  quite  perfectly,  and  he  managed 
by  the  following  summer  to  do  as  well  with  three 
legs  as  most  of  his  kind  did  with  four.  But  I  never 
could  forget  the  picture  which  my  imagination  con- 
jured up  of  poor  bruin  hobbling  in  anguish  over  the 
icy  snow,  a  wretched  victim  of  man's  inhumanity; 
so  he  was  regaled  with  cakes  and  lumps  of  sugar,  the 
best  way  of  showing  him  my  boyish  sympathy.  The 


Caught  in  a  trap. 


THE  KING  OF  THE  WILDERNESS.  185 

last  news  I  got  of  him  in  the  fall  was  that  he  had 
knocked  the  spigot  out  of  a  barrel  of  molasses  some- 
where in  the  neighborhood,  and  that  particular  part 
of  the  country  was  very  sticky. 

Besides  having  a  most  extraordinarily  sweet  tooth, 
bruin  is  decidedly  omnivorous  ;  his  food  is  commonly 
mice,  turtles,  frogs,  fish,  ants  and  their  eggs,  bees  and 
honey,  wild  cherries,  blackberries,  blueberries — in 
fact,  berries  of  every  kind — fruits,  vegetables,  roots, 
and  not  infrequently  sheep,  pigs,  and  poultry.  If 
you  try  him  with  a  kitchen  diet  his  taste  is  quite  as 
comprehensive;  it  includes  cake,  bread,  muffins,  pie 
and  pudding,  butter  and  eggs,  ham,  hominy,  sweet- 
meats, crackers  and  milk,  pork  and  beans,  corn  cake, 
gingerbread — in  fact,  excepting  pickles,  I  doubt 
whether  he  would  refuse  anything  contained  in  the 
larder.  In  his  native  wilds  he  will  tear  old  stumps 
to  pieces  to  find  ants  and  bees,  dig  out  the  nests  of 
white-faced  hornets  and  yellow-jackets,  and,  caring 
little  for  stings,  devour  the  grubs  with  great  relish ; 
scoop  out  the  honeycomb  from  bees'  nests,  regardless 
of  the  army  of  furious  insects ;  tear  down  the  branches 
of  the  beech  for  the  sweet  beechnut ;  strip  the  black 
cherry  of  its  prussic-acid-flavored  fruit  (which  is  his 
great  delight),  and  clean  out  a  blueberry  patch  of 
every  berry,  ripe  or  green,  without  greatly  disturbing 
the  foliage.  Besides  the  huckleberry,  the  beautiful 


186     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

china-white  snowberry,  and  the  common  wintergreen 
(Gaultheria  procumbens\  to  all  of  which  the  bear  is 
partial,  there  is  another  mountain  berry  actually 
named  for  him,  the  bearberry  (Arctostaphylos  Uva- 
Ursi\  of  which  he  is  said  to  be 
particularly  fond.  But  he  does 
not  always  confine  himself  to 
the  wilderness  in  his  search  for 
sustenance :  he  is  a  great  rover, 
especially  in  autumn,  and  not 
infrequently  he  comes  down 
the  mountain  side  and  plun- 
ders the  orchard  of  its  fruit ; 
he  will  even  enter  the  barnyard,  and  his  presence 
there  is  the  immediate  signal  for  an  uproarious  com- 
motion among  the  animals.  It  is  a  great  pity  one 
can  not  persuade  the  horse  that  the  bear  is  quite  as 
much  of  a  coward  as  himself.  Indeed,  two  such  cow- 
ards it  would  be  difficult  to  find  the  like  of  through- 
out the  animal  kingdom.  I  have  rarely  heard  of  a 
black  bear  attacking  any  creature  larger  than  a  calf, 
and  in  the  presence  of  a  bear  a  horse  loses  his  head, 
shies,  jumps,  trembles  like  an  aspen,  and  bolts  if  he 
gets  a  chance.  For  that  matter,  the  keen-scented  horse 
will  smell  a  bear  through  a  two-inch  pine  board,  and 
the  intervening  side  of  a  barn  is,  of  course,  far  from 
reassuring  to  him.  Last  summer  an  itinerant  French- 


THE  KING  OF  THE   WILDERNESS.  187 

man,  with  a  performing  bear — a  remarkably  large 
and  handsome  one,  of  the  cinnamon  species — stopped 
before  my  mountain  home  one  warm  day  and  put  the 
great  hulking  creature  through  a  variety  of  perform- 
ances, to  the  infinite  delight  of  the  children.  He  was 
the  best  of  bears,  good-natured — if  ever  there  was  one 
that  could  be  called  so — and  exceedingly  mild-eyed  ; 
he  ate  the  cold  muffins  we  gave  him  with  a  "  that's- 
not-half-bad  "  expression,  and  hugged  the  pail  of  wa- 
ter as  though  it  were  a  gift  never  to  be  parted  with  ; 
yet,  after  he  had  gone  as  peacefully  as  he  had  come, 
he  innocently  spread  terror  among  the  horses  he 
passed  along  the  highway  just  above,  near  the  Profile 
House  ;  and  not  long  after  I  heard  that  our  friend 
the  Frenchman  was  in  durance  vile  as  a  disturber  of 
the  peace — of  horses  ! 

Now,  the  black  bear  is  as  shrewd  and  cunning  as 
he  is  cowardly.  The  hunter  knows  this,  and  has  to 
take  the  greatest  precautions  to  get  to  the  leeward  of 
him,  and  ultimately  within  rifle  range.  Bruin  is  re- 
markably keen -scented,  and  the  first  whiff  he  gets  of 
"a  man  in  the  air"  prompts  him  to  take  to  his  heels 
at  so  rapid  a  pace  that  the  college  athlete  would  be  no 
match  for  him  in  a  race  through  the  forest.  I  wit- 
nessed for  an  instant  a  fair  exhibition  of  his  running 
power  several  years  ago  in  Waterville,  on  the  western 
slope  of  one  of  the  great  southern  ridges  of  the  White 


188     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


Mountains,  named  Sandwich  Dome.  It  was  the  latter 
part  of  September,  and  I  was  one  of  a  small  party 
making  the  ascent  of  the  mountain.  We  had  come 
suddenly  upon  the  verge  of  a  ravine,  and  there,  less 
than  a  hundred  yards  ahead  of  us,  directly  on  the 

path,    was     the     huge 
black    form    of    bruin 
beating  a  precipi- 
tate   retreat    and 
never  favoring  us 
with   so   much   as  a 
x  parting  glance.  There 
was  a  moment's  rustling 
and  swaying  of  leaves,  a 
sharp  crackling  of  twigs, 

then  nothing — his  sylvan  majesty  had  fled,  and  the 
woods  were  as  silent  and  deserted  as  if  they  had  seen 
no  live  thing  since  the  birds  sang  in  June.  There 
is  a  solemn  silence  in  the  forest,  anyway,  just  before 
the  leaves  begin  to  fall,  but  after  that  bear  disap- 
peared the  stillness  seemed  dramatic,  if  not  actually 
oppressive. 

Not  many  years  ago  a  black  bear  was  seen  by  a 
sportsman  while  he  was  fishing  in  the  east  branch  of 
the  Pemigewasset  River  in  the  White  Mountain  re- 
gion. The  great  creature  was  standing  on  his  hind 
legs  reaching  for  the  ripe  fruit  of  a  black  cherry ;  he 


On  the  run  through  the  snow. 


THE  KING  OF  THE   WILDERNESS.  189 

sniffed  the  air  suspiciously  after  a  few  moments,  and 
then  made  off  in  a  direction  opposite  to  that  of  the 
fisherman  in  the  greatest  haste. 

In  February,  1878,  three  Adirondack  hunters 
while  on  a  panther  hunt  came  across  prints  in  the 
snow  of  a  large  female  bear ;  she  was  traced  to  her 
den,  but  was  found  already  frozen  in  so  she  could 
not  get  out.  After  she  was  shot  three  cubs  about 
three  weeks  old  were  taken  from  the  den,  but  they 
were  too  young  to  raise,  and  soon  died.  In  April 
of  the  same  year  another  den  was  found  in  a  swamp 
near  Fourth  Lake,  Fulton  Chain.  The 
den,  which  was  in  the  side  of  a  knoll, 
was  discovered  by  the  proximity  of 
the  young  cubs,  who  were  playing 
outside  and  did  not  know  enough 
to  "  go  in "'  when  the  hunters  ap- 
peared. The  mother  bear  again 
could  not  get  out,  and  was  easily 
killed.  In  the  following  June  a 
very  young  bear  was  shot  by  Dr. 
Bagg,  also  in  the  vicinity  of  Fourth 

Cubs. 

Lake  ;  it  weighed  about  ten  pounds, 
and  its  stomach  was  filled  with  old  beechnuts.     The 
poor  little  creature  had  evidently  lost   its   mother ; 
and  Dr.  Bagg,  hearing  a  strange  squealing  like  that 
of  a  pig,  imitated  the  sound  with  such  success  that 


190     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

the  lost  cub  came  running  toward  him,  but,  alas !  to 
its  death. 

In  the  summer  of  1882  the  signal  station  camp  of 
the  Adirondack  Survey,  in  charge  of  Mr.  Yerplanck 
Colvin,  was  visited  by  a  bear  in  the  absence  of  the 
campers  and  turned  topsy-turvy  by  the  mischievous 
brute ;  the  tent  was  torn  down,  and  blankets,  books, 
and  instruments  were  strewn  about  in  great  disorder. 
The  footprints  of  bruin  were  found  later,  and  Mr. 
Colvin,  catching  sight  of  him,  fired  at  and  wounded 
him,,  but  did  not  succeed  in  effecting  his  capture. 
Dr.  Merriam  states  that  the  average  number  of  bears 
annually  killed  in  the  Adirondacks  up  to  1882  was 
thirty  or  more.*  In  the  wildernesses  of  the  White 
Mountains  scarcely  a  season  passes  without  ten  or 
more  being  killed,  and  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  great 
forests  of  Maine  the  shooting  of  a  dozen  bears  in 
one  season  may  be  considered  a  mild  amount  of  sport. 
In  the  Red  Hock  district  of  New  Brunswick  in  1879 
eighteen  bears  were  killed,  only  two  of  which  were 
fully  grown.  This  part  of  the  country  is  sparsely  set- 
tled, and  it  is  said  that,  through  the  depredations 
of  bears  during  the  year  mentioned,  the  farmers  lost 
more  than  seventy  head  of  stock,  which  included  even 
horned  cattle. 

*  Vide  Transactions  of  the  Linmean  Society.  Animals  of 
the  Adirondacks. 


BLACK   BEAR. 
URSUS   AMERICANUS. 

"A  large  black  bear  was  seen  standing 
on  the  verge  of  a  precipice." 


THE  KING  OF  THE  WILDERNESS.  191 

In  the  summer  of  1881  the  little  propeller  Ganou- 
skie,  which  traveled  through  Lake  George  at  that 
time,  while  passing  the  mountain  point  known  as  An- 
thony's Nose,  ran  down  a  large  bear  which  was  swim- 
ming across  the  lake  (nearly  a  mile  wide  at  this  part), 
and  one  of  the  passengers  dispatched  him  with  a 
blow  from  an  axe. 

The  bear,  if  he  is  in  good  condition,  is  an  excel- 
lent swimmer,  and  a  matter  of  a  mile  or  so  is  no 
arduous  undertaking.  "When  he  is  fat  his  specific 
gravity  is  not  much  greater  than  that  of  water  ;  there- 
fore he  can  confine  his  efforts  to  propulsion.  Several 
years  later  than  the  occurrence  just  related,  while  the 
steamer  Horicon  was  passing  the  rocky  ridge  which 
borders  the  lake  at  the  foot  of  Black  Mountain  (at 
that  time  burned  bare  by  forest  fires),  a  large  black 
bear  was  seen  by  the  passengers  standing  on  the 
verge  of  a  precipice ;  he  immediately  disappeared  on 
the  nearer  approach  of  the  steamboat. 

The  time  when  bears  den  up  for  the  winter  de- 
pends entirely  upon  the  mildness  or  severity  of  the 
season ;  the  long  winter  nap,  however,  is  not  pro- 
found. Bruin  is  not  overparticular  about  the  char- 
acter of  his  retreat,  provided  it  offers  sufficient 
shelter  from  wind  and  weather.  A  big  hole  scooped 
out  with  his  ponderous  paws  beneath  some  fallen 
tree,  a  rocky  cave  on  a  mountain  knoll,  or  even  a 


192     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD   AND  FOREST. 

broad  hollow  stump — if  it  is  big  enough — is  quite  to 
his  mind.  "When  he  is  ready  to  "  turn  in,"  his  fur  is 
at  its  best,  and  it  is  then  that  the  hunter  prepares  for 
his  big  game.  When  bruin  reappears — probably  dur- 
ing the  first  warm  days  of  March — he  is  not  the 
handsome  beast  that  he  was ;  a  long  fast  and  an  un- 
kempt coat  make  him  look  a  bit  the  worse  for  wear, 
so  he  is  unmolested  if  he  keeps  clear  of  the  farmyard. 
Again,  the  time  of  his  hibernation  is  almost  entirely 
dependent  upon  the  condition  of  the  food  supply.  If 
food  is  scarce  and  the  cold  is  severe,  he  retires  about 
the  first  of  December;  but  if  beechnuts  are  plenty 
and  the  weather  is  mild  he  will  prowl  about  all  win- 
ter, and  the  female  will  den  only  before  the  period 
of  bringing  forth  her  young.  So  long  as  the  male 
can  find  enough  to  eat  he  will  not  den,  be  the  weather 
never  so  severe.  In  the  Yellowstone  Park,  which  is 
the  largest  game  preserve  in  the  world,  the  black 
and  grizzly  bears  are  so  tame  and  plentiful  that 
they  have  become  quite  a  nuisance  by  their  frequent 
visits  during  winter  to  the  garbage  dumps  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  hotels  on  the  reservation.  Dr.  Mer- 
riam  states  that  it  is  perfectly  evident  bruin  does 
riot  den  to  escape  either  cold  or  snow,  but  to  bridge 
over  that  period  when,  if  active,  he  would  be  unable 
to  procure  sufficient  food.  The  females  also  remain 
out  until  the  maternal  instinct  prompts  them  to  seek 


THE  KING  OF  THE   WILDERNESS.  193 

shelter  for  their  prospective  offspring,  and  in  the 
Adirondacks  they  have  been  found  traveling  as  late 
as  the  middle  of  January.  Their  dens  do  not  amount 
to  much,  and  are  often  hastily  scooped  out  beneath 
the  upturned  roots  of  a  fallen  tree  or  a  pile  of  logs ; 
the  nest  is  frequently  made  of  bits  of  brush  and  dried 
leaves,  without  so  much  as  a  bit  of  moss  to  soften  it. 
In  severe  weather,  however,  madam  makes  a  much 
better  bed,  and  frequently  remains  snowed  under  and 
walled  up  in  it  until  April  or  May.  The  den  is  some- 
times revealed  by  a  small  opening  in  the  snow  which 
has  been  melted  by  the  animal's  breath. 

Mr.  Frank  J.  Thomson  has  published  an  inter- 
esting account  of  baby  bears  born  in  the  Zoological 
Garden  at  Cincinnati,*  the  substance  of  which  I 
copy  :  "  About  the  middle  of  January  the  female 
bear  refused  to  come  out  of  her  den,  and  would  not 
let  her  mate  approach  her ;  she  was  at  once  supplied 
with  hay,  which  she  used  to  make  her  nest  comfort- 
able and  warm,  and  was  then  closed  in.  On  Janu- 
ary 26th  the  young  were  born,  but  they  were  not 
seen  until  the  third  day  after,  as  she  would  not  allow 
the  keeper  to  enter  the  den ;  then,  by  feeding  her 
with  bread  held  high  above  her  head,  she  sat  upon  her 
haunches  and  thus  exposed  her  babies  to  view.  Ap- 


*  Vide  Forest  and  Stream  for  September  4,  1879,  p.  COS. 
14 


194     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

parently  they  were  not  more  than  six  inches  long, 
dirty  white  in  color,  and  quite  hairless.  After  ten 
days  their  coats  began  to  show,  first  grayish  and  then 
a  variety  of  shades,  which  finally  terminated  in 
brownish  black.  In  forty  days  their  eyes  were  open ; 
thirty-one  days  later  they  followed  their  mother  to  the 
bars  of  the  cage  where  she  was  fed ;  but  she  did  not 
approve  of  this,  and  led  them  back ;  the  second  time 
they  followed  her  she  cuffed  them  back.  After  a 
few  more  days  she  allowed  them  to  wander  at  will,  if 
no  one  was  immediately  in  front  of  the  cage ;  but  if 
a  visitor  appeared  they  were  promptly  driven  within 
the  den  and  kept  there  until  the  intruder  disappeared. 
As  the  young  cubs  grew  older  they  climbed  all  over 
the  cage  and  had  regular  sparring  bouts,  ending 
in  a  clinch  and  a  rough-and-tumble  fight,  when  the 
mother  would  interfere  and  knock  both  completely 
out  of  time." 

The  black  bear  has  commonly  from  two  to  three 
cubs,  rarely  four,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  she  has 
more  than  one  litter  in  two  years.  It  would  seem 
very  unlikely  that  the  young  cubs  could  fall  a  prey  to 
the  fox,  panther,  or  fisher,  but  such  is  the  case  ;  and 
Mr.  Charles  C.  Ward  cites  an  instance  *  where  an 
Indian  hunter,  who  knew  of  two  litters  of  cubs  which 

*  Vide  The  Century  Magazine  for  March,  1882,  p.  719. 


THE  KING  OF  THE  WILDERNESS.  195 

he  intended  to  capture  as  soon  as  they  were  old 
enough  to  be  taken  from  their  mother,  was  antici- 
pated in  one  instance  by  a  fisher  and  in  the  other 
by  a  fox.  Of  course  the  marauders  entered  the 
dens  when  mother  bear  was  not  at  home,  but  out 
on  the  search  for  food  ;  however,  in  the  case  of 
the  fox,  who  was  not  sufficiently  sagacious  to  time 
himself  for  his  work,  the  bear  arrived  home  sooner 
than  was  expected  and  tore  the  base  intruder  into 
shreds. 

It  is  a  surprising  fact,  not  without  pathetic  inter- 
est, that  the  bear  rears  her  young  in  late  winter  when 
food  is  so  scarce  that  one  wonders  where  the  poor 
mother  finds  sufficient  to  keep  herself  alive. 

Bruin  suffers  most  at  the  hand  of  man,  and  is 
hunted  to  death  in  a  greater  variety  of  ways  than 
I  have  space  here  to  describe.  When  he  can  not 
be  persuaded  to  leave  his  den  by  any  other  means, 
and  he  is  inaccessible,  a  fire  of  moss  and  pine  boughs 
is  started  at  the  entrance  and  he  is  smoked  out; 
but  he  will  frequently  issue  forth  in  great  rage  and 
trample  the  fire  out.  In  a  quaint  old  manuscript 
of  Paul  Dudley,  dated  1718,  there  is  an  amusing  de- 
scription of  a  bear  hunt,  which  I  will  quote  in  part : 
"  Dog  scents  them  &  Barks,  then  they  come  out. 
But  if  snow  be  deep  they  wont  stir :  they  then  put 
fire  in  Hole  of  a  Tree  then  the  Bear  will  come 


196      FAMILIAR  LIFE   IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


Thundering   out   whether   they   are   asleep   or   only 

mope  for  they  easily  wake."  * 

On  the  whole,  it  is  not  to  be 
regretted  that  the  black  bear  is  a 
good  deal  of  a  coward,  for,  on 
occasions  when  he  is  thoroughly 
aroused,  there 
is  usually  some 
terrific  execu- 

Fore  paw  and  hind  paw     ^JQn      with      his 
of   the   black   bear, 

showing  the  planti-      sharp -clawed 
grade  character. 

fore   paws  and 

his  formidable  canine   teeth.      A 
casual  glance  at  his  thick  shoul- 
ders,   however,  reveals    the    true 
point  of    his  strength ;    and    his 
method    of     attack     shows    how 
completely  he  relies  upon  the  big 
muscles   of    his    forearm.      He 
does  not  seize  his  prey  with  his 
teeth,  but  strikes  a  most  terrible 
downward  How  with  his  fore  paw, 
which   tears    flesh    and   bone   asunder.      The   sharp 
claws  are  like  steel   hooks,  and  nothing   can    with- 
stand the  power  which  lies  behind  them.     For  some 


Bruin's  autograph. 


*  Vide  Forest  and  Stream  for  December  26,  1878. 


THE  KING  OF   THE  WILDERNESS.  197 

unexplained  reason  brain  exercises  claws  and  teeth 
on  the  bark  of  trees  as  he  passes  through  the  forest, 
and  thus  leaves  his  autograph,  which,  sometimes  to 
his  misfortune,  serves  as  a  guide  for  the  hunter. 
These  tree  marks  have  several  times  been  noticed 
in  the  wilderness  which  surrounds  Slide  Mountain 
in  the  southern  Catskills.  The  bear  rises  on  his 
hind  legs,  and,  embracing  the  trunk  with  his  fore 
legs,  tears  the  bark  with  tooth  and  claw  for  sev- 
eral minutes,  and  then  proceeds  on  his  rambles.  Mr. 
James  Gordon,  writing  on  Bear-Hunting  in  the 
South,*  records  his  guide's  remarks  on  these  bear 
scratches  (they  are  always  made  by  the  male)  as 
follows  :  "  Look  close,  and  you  will  see  the  tallest 
marks  are  the  freshest.  A  young  b'ar,  feeling  very 
large  all  by  himself,  wrote  his  name  tliar  fust.  The 
way  he  does  it,  he  places  his  back  ag'in'  the  tree  "  (a 
position  which  does  not  seem  to  correspond  with  that 
described  by  Audubon  f),  "  and,  turning  his  head, 
bites  the  bark  as  high  as  he  can  reach,  which  means, 
in  b'ar  lingo,  '  I'm  boss  of  the  woods  :  beware  how 
you  trespass  on  my  domains.'  The  next  b'ar  that 
comes  along  takes  the  same  position  and  tries  to  out- 
reach the  first.  Now  this  old  fellow  has  written  in 
bear  hieroglyphics  a  foot  higher,  '  Mind  your  eye, 

*  Vide  The  Century  Magazine  for  October,  1881. 
f  Vide  Quadrupeds  of  North  America. 


198     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

young  un,  you're  a  very  small  potato  ;  Pm  the  boss 
that  claims  pre  emption  rights  to  these  pastures.' 
Another  reason  for  thinking  it  is  a  he-b'ar  is  that  the 
shes  have  young  about  the  third  week  in  January, 
and  it's  about  that  time.  We  hunt  them  in  February 
by  examining  the  cypress  trees,  where  they  have  left 
their  marks  climbing  to  their  dens." 

The  black  bear  is  a  good  climber,  but  he  is  too 
heavy  to  ascend  into  the  tree  tops.  Often  when 
hunted  by  dogs  he  takes  to  the  tree,  and  then  it  is  all 
up  with  him.  A  pack  of  dogs  trained  to  hunt  bears 
in  the  South  is  comprised  of  the  most  "or'nary- 
looking "  curs,  with  pedigrees  of  confessedly  vile 
mongrel  strains.  A  few  rough-haired  terriers,  active 
and  plucky,  to  fight  in  front,  some  medium-sized 
dogs  to  fight  on  all  sides,  and  a  few  large  active  curs 
to  pinch  bruin's  hind  quarters  are  all  that  are  re- 
quired to  make  a  well-trained  pack,  which  will  only 
seize  hold  in  a  body  when  one  of  its  number  is 
caught ;  then  it  boldly  charges  to  the  rescue  of  the 
comrade,  and,  as  soon  as  he  is  freed,  it  lets  go  and 
runs.  Finally,  gathering  around  the  bear  again,  the 
dogs  worry  him  until  he  climbs  a  tree. 

If  bruin  is  captured  when  he  is  very  young  he 
becomes  quite  tame,  provided  he  is  carefully  and  sys- 
tematically trained  ;  but  it  is  wisest  to  keep  a  sharp 
and  vigilant  eye  on  him,  as  he  is  not  altogether  trust- 


THE  KING  OF  THE  WILDERNESS.  199 

worthy  as  a  pet.*  Mr.  Ward  confesses  that  his  own 
efforts  to  tame  young  bears  have  not  always  been  re- 
warded with  perfect  success,  and  he  mildly  writes 
that  it  is  an  unpleasant  experience  to  return  home 
from  a  journey  and  find  the  house  surrounded  by 
neighbors  armed  with  pitchforks  and  muskets,  the 
family  shut  up  in  the  dining-room,  and  the  pet  bear, 
in  a  ferocious  temper,  having  things  all  his  own  way. 
"  Nevertheless,"  adds  Mr.  Ward,  "  if  one  is  willing 
to  endure  that  sort  of  thing,  a  vast  amount  of  amuse- 
ment can  be  got  out  of  a  tame  bear." 

The  black  bear  is  remarkable  for  its  magnificent 
fur,  which,  when  properly  dressed,  possesses   great 
softness  and  luster  combined  with  dura- 
bility.     At   the    close   of    autumn, 
when   bruin   has    had   plenty   to 
eat,  and   he   is    sleek   and  fat 
with  the  rich  mast  gathered 
from  the  beech  forest,  he  is 
jet-black  excepting  his   muzzle, 
Bruin's  profile.          which  is  fawn   color   at   the   nose 
deepening   to  tan   color  near  the 
eyes  ;  over  each  eye  there  is  a  spot  of  tan  brown. 
The  profile  of  the  black  bear's  face  is  characterized 
by  a  delicate  convex  line  from  nose  to  forehead  ;  the 

*  Read  Bret  Hart's  charming  story  of  Baby  Sylvester,  in  the 
St.  Nicholas  for  July,  1874,  vol.  i. 


200     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

eyes  are  small,  black,  and  intelligent,  and  the  ears  are 
somewhat  rounded  in  outline  ;  on  the  whole,  his  face 
is  not  an  unkind  one,  and  it  has  a  certain  canine 
suggestion  both  gentle  and  reassuring ;  but  hunted 
down  and  in  a  desperate  encounter  with  a  hunter, 
bruin  assumes  an  expression  of  countenance  sinister 
in  the  extreme.  Mr.  W.  W.  Thomas  describes  a 
close  and  dangerous  meeting  with  a  wounded  bear 
thus :  *  "  I  see  the  beast  leaping  on  all  fours,  hind 
quarters  high,  fore  shoulders  low,  head  down  and 
askew,  snout  turned  to  the  right,  lip  curled  up  like  a 
snarling  dog,  teeth  chattering,  and  black  eyes  gleam- 
ing with  a  devilish  light.  On  comes  the  monster 
with  his  vibrating,  grunting  growl,  Knar-r-r-r-r !  As 
the  gun  swings  up  to  my  face  I  glance  along  the 
barrels,  and  see  the  snapping  teeth  of  the  leaping 
brute  within  four  feet  of  my  gun  muzzle.  I  fire. 
The  beast  falls  forward  with  a  heavy  thud  at  my 
feet ! " 

Bruin's  voice  is  far  from  musical.  After  a  queer 
sniff  made  by  drawing  in  the  breath  there  is  a  gut- 
tural growl,  which  sounds  like  a  prolonged  Gnar-r-r- 
r-r-r-r !  far  deeper-toned  and  more  threatening  than 
the  warning  growl  of  an  angry  mastiff.  But  in  cap- 
tivity the  black  bear  rarely  exhibits  any  symptoms  of 

*  Vide  A  Week  in  a  Dug-out,  Harper's  Magazine,  vol.  Ixiii, 
1881,  p.  830. 


THE  KING  OF  THE  WILDERNESS.  201 

a  ferocious  disposition,  and  his  growls  are  few  and 
far  between.  Not  so  when  he  is  on  the  rampage  in 
the  forest  during  the  rutting  season  ;  at  that  time  he 
scours  the  wilderness  with  a  number  of  his  fellows, 
indulging  in  continual  snarling  and  fighting.  The 
collision  of  two  such  creatures  in  a  regular  up-and- 
down  fight  is  a  sight  which  impels  one  to  keep  at  a 
respectful  distance.  I  recollect  a  certain  bear  fight 
in  a  "Zoo,"  one  time,  which  demoralized  the  whole 
establishment  for  the  space  of  several  minutes ;  dur- 
ing that  time  the  earth  trembled,  and  what  with  the 
blood-curdling  growls  and  thumping  blows  of  the 
hulking  creatures,  the  rest  of  the  animals  concluded 
the  end  of  all  things  was  at  hand,  and  their  cries  were 
proportionally  energetic. 

The  flesh  of  the  bear  is  quite  good  in  flavor  if  the 
animal  happens  to  be  in  prime  condition,  otherwise  it 
is  rather  tough.  I  can  testify,  however,  to  the  un- 
qualified excellence  of  bear  steak  taken  from  a  young 
and  fat  animal. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  MISCHIEVOUS  NEIGHBOR. 
The  Raccoon. 

A  NEAK  relative  of  the  bear,  and,  like  him  possess- 
ing a  humorous  side  to  his  character,  abundant  in  all 
parts  of  the  country,  and  constantly  getting  into  mis- 
chief in  his  nightly  visits  to  the  barnyard  and  corn- 
field, the  raccoon  is  one  of  those  interesting  wild  ani- 
mals whose  appearance  brings  guns,  traps,  and  dogs 
into  immediate  requisition ;  and  the  poor  beast, 
hunted  for  his  life,  usually  ends  with  his  skin  tacked 
on  the  barn  door  and  his  dismembered  body  in  the 
pot.  Alas  for  the  coon  !  But  he  happens  to  fur- 
nish a  very  savory  dish  for  the  table,  and  he  is  re- 
puted to  rob  the  henroost ;  two  excellent  reasons  for 
demanding  his  life — at  least  so  argues  the  farmer. 

Now  the  raccoon  (Procyon  lotor  *)  is  by  no  means 

*  The  name  is  significant :  it  is  derived  from  irpottv&v  (procyon), 
one  who  snarls  like  a  dog  ;  the  specific  lotor,  Linnaeus  added,  be- 
cause the  animal  has  a  habit  of  dipping  its  food  in  water  before 
eating. 

203 


, 


THE  RACCOON. 
PROCYON   LOTOR. 

"He  is  abroad  at  all  hours  of  the  night, 
and  often  on  cloudy  days." 

Photographed  from  life  by 
W.  Lyman  Underwood. 


A  MISCHIEVOUS  NEIGHBOR. 


203 


an  enemy  to  farming  interests  ;  what  he  may  happen 
to  steal  in  the  way  of  corn  and  chickens  is  greatly 


overbalanced    by 
mice  and  in- 

stroys. 


the     number      of 
sects  which  he  de- 
His     depredations 
are  therefore  insignifi- 
cant    compared    with 
the   havoc   he   makes 
among  the  homes  of 
creatures  injurious  to 
the  farm.     Beetles,  mice, 
and  even  rats,  he  hunts  with 
ceaseless  activity  during  all  hours 
the  night,  and  it  is  impossible  to 
estimate  the  extent  of   his  services  in  this 
direction. 

Raccoon.  But  he  is  omnivorous,  like  the  bear ;  he 
feeds  on  mice,  fats,  moles,  turtles,  toads, 
frogs,  fish,  insects,  nuts,  fruit.*  corn,  birds  and  their 
eggs,  and  sometimes  poultry.  He  is  abroad  at  all 
hours  of  the  night,  and  often  on  cloudy  days. 

There  is  no  question  about  the  abundance  of  life 

*  Dr.  Abbott  tells  of  a  coon  he  once  saw  in  a  tree  whose  mouth 
was  apparently  reeking  with  gore,  but  upon  a  closer  view  of  the 
animal  and  his  environment  he  found  that  he  had  been  indulging 
his  taste  for  wild  grapes.  The  tree  was  draped  with  the  vines, 
and  the  coon  had  liberally  helped  himself  to  the  ripe  fruit,  which 
had  stained  his  jaws  red. 


The 


204     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN   FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

in  the  woods  and  fields ;  there  are  evidences  of  it  in 
every  direction  when  we  are  strolling  through  the 
country  highways  and  byways.  It  only  needs  a 
watchful  eye  to  discern  the  unmistakable  traces  of 
creatures,  both  great  and  small,  at  our  feet,  within 
reach  of  our  hands,  and  over  our  heads.  I  do  not 
allude  now  to  the  ubiquitous  toad,  the  occasional 
snake,  the  familiar  squirrel,  and  the  still  more  famil- 
iar sparrow  :  these  are  always  in  evidence.  But  the 
woodchuck's  hole  is  not  far  off,  if  we  will  look  for  it 
the  salamander's  tracks  are  traced  in  the  sand  around 
every  other  stone  on  the  margin  of  the  brook,  the 
marks  of  the  porcupine's  teeth  are  on  the  corner  of 
the  woodshed,  the  tattooing  of  the  sap  sucker  deco- 
rates the  trunk  of  the  apple  tree,  the  weasel's  home  is 
under  the  decaying  log,  the  fox  leaves  feathers  and 
bony  relics  at  the  threshold  of  his  burrow,  the  raccoon 
leaves  his  footprints  in  the  muddy  margin  of  the 
pond,  the  turtle  trails  a  curious  pattern  on  the  sandy 
shore  of  the  river,  and  strange  paws  mark  the  black 
mud  around  the  spring  in  the  mountain  forest. 

Not  only  are  the  homes  and  haunts  of  many  fa- 
miliar creatures  around  about  us,  but  also  the  evi- 
dences of  many  a  tragedy.  Here,  just  under  the 
bushes  beside  the  road,  is  a  dead  chipmunk  ;  a  glance 
at  the  place  where  his  head  ought  to  be  is  sufficient 
to  identify  the  murderer ;  he  was  undoubtedly  a 


A  MISCHIEVOUS  NEIGHBOR, 


205 


The  Coon's  paw. 


weasel.  There  are  some  spots  of  red  on  the  clover 
beside  a  tin y  hole  in  the  meadow  grass ;  here  was  the 
home  of  a  field  mouse  who  was  cap- 
tured last  night,  perhaps  by  a  coon. 
There  is  the  daintiest  kind  of  a  foot- 
print in  the  soft  earth  near  by ;  it  is 
like  a  miniature  hand  pressed  lightly 
on  the  ground  ;  whose  is  it  ?  Look 
at  a  coon's  fore  paw  and  the  ques- 
tion is  answered. 
In  the  coon  we  have  another  animal  which,  like  the 
cat,  loves  to  be  out  by 
the  light  of  the  moon. 
If  we  desire  to  meet 
this  nocturnal  prowl- 
er, we  must  prowl 
also  up  to  a  late  hour 
at  night.  Of  course  it 
will  be  good  luck  if  we 
catch  a  single  glimpse 
of  him  after  prowling 
about  through  out- 
rageously late  hours 
during  every  night 
throughout  the  sum- 
mer !  Notwithstanding  we  see  evidences  of  his  pres- 
ence in  the  vicinity,  he  does  not  appear ;  but  set  a 


The  moonlight  prowler. 


206     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


Coon's  face. 


trap  with  a  chicken  leg  or  a  bit  of  toasted  codfish, 
and  -there  he  is  the  next  morning,  poor  frightened 
beast,  with  a  sinister  expression  on 
his  pretty  face.  There  is  nothing 
in  all  Nature  so  striking  as  the  black 
setting  of  his  eyes  with  the  sur- 
rounding ring  of  white.  There  is 

... 

an  appealing  look  in  the  creature  s 
face,  despite  his  threatening  aspect.  Who  is  cold- 
blooded enough  to  kill  him  ? 

Coon-hunting  in  the  South,  however,  by  moonlight, 
seems  to  be  a  regular  institution.  When  the  corn  is 
ripe  in  September,  "  Marse  Coon  "  steps  into  the  field 
as  the  shades  of  evening  have  deepened  and  helps 
himself  to  a  few  choice  ears,  stripping  them  of  their 
husks  with  his  dainty  fore  paws  quite  as  well  as  a 
pretty  girl  with  deft  fingers  does  at 
a  corn-husking.  He  is  very 
fond  of  the  succulent, 
milky  kernels,  and  very 
handy  with  his  paws  ;  but, 
alas  !  he  is  so  preoccupied 
with  his  feasting  that  the 
wretched  dogs  are  soon  upon  his 
scent,  and  close  upon  his  heels 
before  he  has  realized  his  danger.  He  runs  for  his 
life,  but  one  of  the  dogs  is  at  him,  and  in  an  instant 


Coon  eating  corn. 


"Out  of  harm's  way, 
treed." 

Photographed  from  life  by 
W.  Lyman  Underwood. 


A  MISCHIEVOUS  NEIGHBOR.  207 

there  is  a  snarling  scuffle,  too  vaguely  outlined  in  the 
light  of  the  moon  to  enable  one  to  determine  the 
issue  ;  but  the  dog  evidently  knows  more  about  coons' 
teeth  than  to  his  liking,  and  Marse  Coon  escapes. 
Again  other  dogs  catch  up,  and  there  is  a  big  scrap 
this  time  just  under  a  gum  tree  ;  but  by  some  quick 
work  with  his  teeth  the  coon  procures  a  stay  of  pro- 
ceedings, in  the  midst  of  which  he  makes  a  dart  like 
lightning  for  the  trunk  of  the  tree  and  gains  it  with- 
out another  encounter.  Up  he  goes  spirally,  and  soon 
is  lodged  in  a  crotch  out  of  harm's  way — "  treed." 
There  is  instantly  more  bark  —  dogs'  bark  —  around 
that  tree  than  ever  was  known  before  in  all  its  his- 
tory! The  coon  was  more  than  a  match  for  the 
dogs.  But  along  comes  the  hunter  with  his  gun  ; 
and  who,  however  brave,  is  a  match  for  the  gun  ? 

The  coon  is  a  fair  climber,  as  a  glance  at  his  claws 
will  amply  testify  ;  but  he  is  no  match  in  tree-climb- 
ing for  the  members  of  the  MustelidfB  family — the 
martens  and  the  weasels — nor  for  the  red  squirrel. 
Indeed,  he  is  not  arboreal,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the 
term,  and  I  very  much  doubt  whether  he  can  be  in- 
cluded among  the  enemies  of  the  birds  without  posi- 
tive injustice  to  his  character.  He  does  not  pursue 
his  prey  among  the  tree  tops,  and  is  rarely  seen  in  a 
tree  above  some  crotch  in  the  lower  branches.  His 
home,  it  is  true,  may  be  well  up  in  the  hollow  of  a 


20S     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AXD  FOREST. 

dead  limb,  but  his  hnntiDg  expeditions  are  mostly 
made  on  terra  frma. 

Remarkably  bright  and  winning  in  manners  when 
tamed,  the  coon  enjoys  special  privileges  as  a  pet. 
He  is  frequently  given  the  freedom  of  the  honse,  as 
he  never  attempts  to  run  away  ;  but  the  consequences 
of  his  freedom  are  sometimes  disastrous  to  the  house- 
keeper. He  is  the  very  soul  of  mischief,  and  his 
curiosity  has  no  bounds ;  nothing  within  reach  is  safe 
from  his  meddlesome  fingers,  and  woe  nnto  the 
kitchen  pantry  which  he  enters  !  lake  his  cousin  the 
black  bear,  he  is  especially  fond  of  "  sweets."  Mo- 
lasses, sugar,  preserves,  and  cake — everything,  he 
samples  them  all  with  infinite  satisfaction,  and  scat- 
ters the  remains  of  his  feast  with  a  noble  disregard 
for  consequences.  Sugar,  milk,  lard,  butter,  and 
broken  eggs  cover  the  shelves  and  mix  together  in 
such  generous  quantities  that  only  the  hot  oven  is 
needed  to  convert  the  mess  into  some  nameless  kind 
of  cake  !  It  is  not  an  agreeable  sight  for  the  house- 
keeper to  enter  the  pantry  and  surprise  the  pet  coon 
seated  in  the  sugar  barrel  and  oozing  molasses  at  the 
tip  of  every  hair. 

But  I  do  not  exaggerate :  he  is  on  record  as  having 
done  all  these  things.  It  does  not  make  much  differ- 
ence where  he  is,  his  propensity  for  mischief  finds  a 
sufficient  means  for  exercise.  The  last  coon  I  made 


A  MISCHIEVOUS  NEIGHBOR.  209 

the  acquaintance  of  was  chained  to  keep  him  out  of 
trouble.  He  was  the  pet  of  the  proprietor  of  a  to- 
bacco shop,  and  before  he.  was  chained  he  took  it  into 
his  head,  one  Sunday,  to  sample  the  cigars.  "  My 
stars !  "  said  the  salesman  who  told  me  of  the  inci- 
dent, "you  just  onghter  'uv  seen  this  shop  o'  Monday 
mornin' !  Sech  a  sight !  Boxes  o'  Henry  Clays  upsot 
over  the  floor ;  the  best  Havanas  all  chawed  up  and 
spit  out — not  one  or  two,  but  scores  o'  'em ;  tobacky 
jars  knocked  down  and  smashed ;  { Dill's  best '  all 
dragged  outen  de  boxes,  an'  de  best  Carolina  mixed 
sprinkled  over  the  floor  like  sawdust ;  and  when  I 
looked  aroun',  there  sot  that  coon  in  the  corner  lickin' 
his  chops  kinder  apologizin'  like,  and  seemin'  to  say, 
4 1  had  a  d 1  of  a  time  yesterday,  young  feller,  try- 
in'  to  find  somethin'  fit  to  eat '.  An'  I  reckon  Pd  a 
worse  time  that  day  clearin'  up.  Since  then  we  kep 
'im  chained.  He's  young,  but  he  ain't  no  fool,  and 
he's  beggin'  now  for  a  lump  o'  sugar — here,  you 
young  rascal ! " — and  he  gave  him  one.  While  my 
informant  talked  the  coon  dodged  his  head  about, 
turned  a  few  somersaults,  clawed  at  the  man's  trou- 
cers,  and  by  other  unmistakable  means  showed  that 
he  would  relish  some  kind  of  a  tidbit  not  in  the  line 
of  tobacco. 

I  made  several  sketches  of  him  on  the  spot,  the 

results  of  which  appear  in  these  pages.     Most  of  the 
15 


210     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


on  the 


day  he  seemed  to  sleep,  coiled  up  in  a  corner,  but 
about  four  o'clock  he  roused  himself  and  solicited  a 
little  attention. 

The  coon's  voice  is  not  a  musical  one  ;  he  has  a 
sharp,  snarling  cry,  not  very  loud,  and  a  discordant, 
growling  Grnar-r-r-r !  when  he  is  angered  ;  but 

whole  he  is  a  good-natured 
beast,  who  likes  company 
whether  he  is  in  the 
Id  state  or  do- 
mesticated. It  is 
rarely  the  case 
that  a  coon 
chooses  to 
live  in  a 
particular 
part  of 
the  coun- 
try quite  alone  ;  he  goes  in  company  on  his  foraging 
expeditions,  and  it  is  said  that  several  members  of  a 
single  family  will  live  together  in  amity  and  make 
their  excursions  together,  leaving  the  nest  for  several 
days  at  a  time. 

The  female  bears  from  four  to  six  young  about 
the  middle  of  April,  and  these  stay  with  the  mother 
throughout  the  year.  They  hibernate  during  the 
severe  part  of  the  winter,  and  reappear,  according  to 


Coon  asleep  in  the  willows. 


f  I 


A  MISCHIEVOUS  NEIGHBOR.  211 

the  abatement  of  the  cold,  from  February  to  March. 
Truth  to  tell,  the  coon  does  not  fancy  cooling  his  heels 
in  the  snow  any  more  than  comfort-loving  puss  ;  and 
the  retirement  of  the  chimney  corner,  in  his  state  of 
domesticity,  is  far  more  to  his  taste.  But  his  heredi- 
tary habits  are  such  that  when  he  stirs  himself  into 
activity,  about  five  in  the  afternoon,  it  is  wise  to  keep 
the  pantry  door  closed^  or  he  will  make  a  night  of 
it.  There  are  records  of  his  having  drawn  corks 
from  bottles,  removed  the  covers  from  butter  tubs, 
lifted  latches,  and  even  turned  door  knobs. 

So  clever  an  animal  ought  not  to  be  so  easily 
trapped ;  yet  he  is.  I  recollect  two  summers  ago 
that  my  neighbor  and  right-hand  man,  the  esteemed 
guardian  of  my  mountain  home,  remarked  one  day 
that  a  coon  had  appeared  the  night  before  in  his 
dooryard.  "  I'll  have  him  to-morrow,"  he  added ; 
and  he  did.  The  trap  was  set  that  night,  and  the 
unsuspicious  coon  made  the  fatal  error  of  trusting  too 
much  in  the  harmlessness  of  things  in  general  and 
man  in  particular.  "We  both  of  us  had  coon  stew  for 
dinner  shortly  afterward,  and  the  pelt  of  the  poor 
trusting  creature  decorated  the  barn  door,  as  might 
be  expected. 

The  flesh  of  a  young  coon  is  tender  and  delicately 
flavored,  if  it  is  properly  cooked ;  but,  as  in  the  case 
of  any  other  animal,  it  is  tough  and  unsavory  if  the 


212     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

creature  is  old.  On  the  whole,  between  young  rab- 
bit, coon,  frog's  legs,  and  chicken,  each  "  done  to  a 
turn,"  give  me  the  chicken  last.  It  is  a  great  mistake 
to  cook  any  meat  whatever  from  an  animal  freshly 
killed;  an  interval  of  three  days  at  least,  and  the 
temperature  of  a  refrigerator,  are  absolutely  requisite 
to  bring  flesh  to  the  proper  point  of  tenderness. 

The  fur  of  the  coon  is  thick,  long,  and  pepper- 
and-salt  gray  ;  the  tail  is  strikingly  ringed  with  black, 
and  the  face  is  strongly  marked.  Occasionally  there 
are  individuals  caught  which  are  nearly  all  black ; 
the  pelts  of  these  bring  as  much  as  two  dollars  each. 
Coons  from  New  York,  New  England,  Ohio,  Iowa, 
Michigan,  and  the  Northwest  have  the  finest  fur,  and 
these  skins  bring  from  twenty  to  eighty  cents,  accord- 
ding  to  quality.  Skins  from  the  Southern  States  and 
south  Indiana  and  Illinois  bring  from  fifteen  to  sev- 
erity cents. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE   FARMER'S  SLY  NEIGHBOR. 
The  Red  Fox. 

HE  is  a  much-abused  creature,  this  red  fox  ( Vul- 
pes  pennsylvanicus),  and  the  reputation  he  has  un- 


through  his  incur- 
roost  is  not  an  en- 
animal      world, 
and  a  thief  his 
cum  stance 


fortunately    acquired 
sions  on  the  hen- 
viable  one  in  the 
But   as    a    robber 
deeds  are  not   a   cir- 
compared  with  those  of 
the  weasel ;   the    latter 
seems  to  delight  in  pure 
murder,  without  rhyme  or 
reason,    but   the  fox   takes 
what  he  needs  and  leaves 
all  else — to  be  sure,  not  with- 
out an  eye  for  the  immediate    A  y°uthfui 

Red  Fox. 

future,  as  one  may  frequently 

find  him  returning  for  a  second  or  third  tempting 

hen,  and  the  relics  surrounding  his  hole  show  that  his 

213 


214     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

disposition  is  not  an  improvident  one.  On  the  whole, 
however,  an  impartial  examination  into  his  account 
with  the  henroost  shows  a  surprisingly  small  percent- 
age of  loss  to  the  latter  through  his  subtractions. 
And  again,  I  doubt  very  much  whether  the  chickens 
which  Reynard  captures  are  taken  from  the  poultry 
yard ;  a  thrifty  farmer  with  a  well-ordered  henroost 
is  not  bothered  much  by  foxes.  Reynard  lurks  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  farm  and  picks  up,  night  and 
day,  those  lawless  rovers  which  a  slovenly  fence  in- 
vites to  the  freedom  of  a  boundless  world  beyond. 

~No  one  but  a  farmer  knows  what  a  trial  the  roam- 
ing cow  and  hen  are.  If  Reynard  would  only  pluck 
up  courage  enough  to  worry  the  hind  legs  of  wander- 
ing cattle  and  somehow  or  other  head  them  for  home, 
I  am  sure  the  farmer  would  gladly  concede  to  him 
the  itinerant  hen.  Without  doubt  the  farm  hand 
wastes  more  time  hunting  cows  than  listening  to  gos- 
sip in  the  country  store.  As  for  the  roving  and  de- 
structive hen,  the  expense  of  chicken-yard  wire-fenc- 
ing, and  the  depredations  of  half  a  dozen  or  more 
escaped  fowls  in  the  newly  sowed  garden  beds — these 
are  sufficiently  exasperating  to  make  one  wish  for  a 
stray  fox  to  administer  condign  punishment. 

We  can  spare  a  few  chickens  for  Reynard's  sake  ; 
he  will  not  take  many,  and  he  is  so  thoroughly  inter- 
esting himself  that  he  will  amply  repay  us  for  the 


THE  FARMER'S  SLY  NEIGHBOR.  215 

loss  of  a  few  bothersome  hens,  if  we  will  take  the 
trouble  to  study  his  marvelously  sagacious  character. 
He  has  little  to  depend  upon  in  the  struggle  for  ex- 
istence beyond  his  wits  ;  he  is  thoroughly  carnivorous, 
and  must  catch  what  he  can  without  risking  a  fight 
with  creatures  more  fully  equipped  with  means  of  de- 
fense than  himself.  Consequently  his  prey  is  com- 
prised of  only  those  animals  which  can  make  the  least 
show  of  resistance.  The  skunk  he  will  catch  un- 
awares, if  he  can  ;  at  most  it 
will  only  be  a  conflict 
between  sharp  teeth,  if 
Reynard  can  clinch 
with  him  before 
there  is  a  chance 
for  a  bombardment. 
Then,  among  the  ro- 
dents there  are  musk-  Fos  asleeP  (showing  the  warmth  and 

protection  of  the  bushy  tail). 

rats,        woodchucks, 

hares,  squirrels,  and  mice.  Birds,  poultry,  and  eggs 
he  is,  of  course,  especially  addicted  to  ;  frogs,  and 
even  fish,  he  does  not  disdain,  and  I  have  known  him 
to  make  away  with  the  carcass  of  a  horse  in  the  winter 
season.  It  is  even  recorded  by  more  than  one  au- 
thority that  he  is  partial  to  wild  grapes  and  strawber- 
ries ;  but  I  have  no  knowledge  of  his  vegetarian  pro- 
clivity, and  I  doubt  whether  fruit  of  any  description 


216      FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

would  tempt  him  so  long  as  there  was  a  bird  or  a 
mouse  to  be  found. 

Our  red  fox  is  by  no  means  the  same  animal  as 
the  English  fox  (  Vulpes  vulpes).  The  •  latter  lacks 
the  soft  color  of  the  former,  the  fur  is  harsher  and 
not  nearly  so  fine,  the  head  is  broader,  the  muzzle 
less  pointed  and  shorter,  and  there  is  less  black  on 
the  legs.  I  do  not  suppose,  however,  that  the  two 
animals  differ  very  greatly  in  character,  as  the  Ameri- 
can fox  is  quite  equal  to  his  English  cousin  in  an 
ability  to  hold  his  own  on  the  very  ground  of  his 
arch-enemy,  man  ;  and  in  this  country,  where  fox- 
hunting has  not  yet  become  common,  the  fox  needs  all 
his  clever  wits  to  evade  the  cruel  traps  of  the  relent- 
less trapper  who  means  business  and  not  sport.  It  is 
a  fair  fight,  though,  between  the  fox  and  the  trapper  ; 
but  the  fox-hunter's  childish  sport  offers  the  fox  no 
chance ;  it  is  all  rank  injustice  ;  he  must  run  to  his 
death  and  make  a  holiday  for  idle  men  and  a  pack 
of  dogs. 

In  spite  of  his  adversaries  the  sagacious  fox  still 
retains  his  place  throughout  the  wilder  parts  of  the 
country,  and  given  some  proper  consideration  he  will 
continue  to  live  without  making  serious  inroads  on 
the  shiftless  farmer's  defenseless  chicken  roost.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  he  ever  gets  a  chance  to  rob  a  man 
of  thrift.  Our  failure  to  recognize  the  common 


THE  FARMER'S  SLY  NEIGHBOR. 


217 


rights  of  life  among  the  animals  often  blinds  us  to 
the   fact   that   wild   creatures   are   really   beneficent 


servants  in  one  way  or  an- 
man  is  generally  the  one 
It  is  quite  natural 
the  fox 


"  With  a  bedraggled  hen.1 


other,  and 
benefited, 
to   picture 
with   a  be- 
draggled   hen 
in  his  mouth ; 
but,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,   he   de- 
stroys a  score  of 
such   creatures    as 
rats,    woodchucks, 
rabbits,  and  moles, 

to  every  single  hen.  I  know  this  by  experience,  for 
a  casual  examination  of  the  vicinity  of  a  fox's  hole 
last  summer  revealed  the  truth  beyond  a  doubt ;  but 
to  be  quite  candid,  I  must  admit  that  another  fox's 
retreat  revealed  more  chicken's  feathers  than  would 
guarantee  my  proportion  of  one  to  twenty. 

"  But  all  sorts  of  things  and  weather 
Must  be  taken  in  together 
To  make  up  a  year 
And  a  sphere," 

and  it  happened  that  this  particular  fox  took  up  his 
residence  within  a  convenient  distance  of  two  shift- 
less-looking farms. 


218     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

Not  only  are  we  apt  to  lose  sight  of  the  beneficent 
phase  of  wild  life,  but  we  are  quite  as  prone  to  for- 
get that  it  possesses  any  joy.  We  think  the  fox 
struggles  for  existence.  What  does  he  know  about 
struggling  for  food  and  shelter  ?  It  is  a  joy  to  him 
to  creep  stealthily  and  noiselessly  upon  his  victim,  to 
gain  his  dinner  by  his  wits,  and  to  feel  the  satisfac- 
tion of  an  appeased  hunger.  A  glimpse  of  a  family 
of  foxes  reveals  anything  but  the  serious  side  of 
life.  Nothing  in  the  wide  world  is  more  attractive- 
ly bright  than  the  face  of  a  young  fox,  and  three  or 
four  of  the  little  creatures  at  play  are  even  jollier  and 
prettier  than  as  many  kittens. 

But  when  he  is  hunted  by  dogs  the  fox's  struggle 
has  begun  in  earnest,  for  it  is  a  desperate  and  hopeless 
one.  He  leads  the  dog  a  chase  over  hill  and  dale  to 
utter  exhaustion,  and  at  the  end  uses  his  needlelike 
teeth  to  no  purpose ;  after  facing  each  other  for  a 
brief  space  with  panting  jaws,  the  dog  makes  a  lunge 
at  the  fox,  seizes  him  by  the  throat,  perhaps  gives 
him  one  shake,  and  all  is  over. 

When  Reynard  is  trapped,  a  very  moderate  but 
sharp  blow  on  the  muzzle  with  a  heavy  stick  finishes 
him  with  equal  dispatch ;  at  best  one  can  not  help 
feeling  a  bit  remorseful  after  the  deed  is  done,  be- 
cause it  was  so  easily  accomplished.  But  what  a 
beauty  he  is !  The  ears  and  the  long  hairs  of  the 


THE  RED   FOX. 
VULPES    PENNSYLVANICUS. 

"  A  glimpse  of  a  family  of  foxes." 


THE  FARMER'S  SLY  NEIGHBOR.  219 

tail  are  tipped  with  black ;  the  fur  is  thick  and 
warm  ;  the  tone  along  the  line  of  the  back  is  a  pale 
burnt  sienna ;  the  tail  is  bushy  and  long,  and  the 
gradation  of  color  from  the  back  to  the  stomach 
through  ruddy  ocher  to  buff  and  cream  is  beautiful 
beyond  expression. 

Reynard  is  not  easily  trapped,  however ;  his  keen 
scent  discovers  the  touch  of  a  hand  and  the  tracks  of 
a  foot  at  once,  and  he  will  not  approach  a  trap.  It 
is  often  the  case  that  the  fox's  aversion  to  water  is  the 
means  of  his  being  entrapped  by  shrewd  hunters. 
The  method  of  setting  the  trap  is  this  :  The  bait  is 
placed  conspicuously  on  a  stone  out  in  the  shallow 
water  just  beyond  reach  of  the  fox ;  halfway  be- 
tween this  and  the  shore  the  set  trap  is  sunken,  and 
over  it  is  placed,  slightly  above  water,  a  lump  of  turf  ; 
the  fox  then,  to  avoid  wetting  his  feet,  steps  on  the 
insecure  turf,  the  trap  snaps,  and  he  is  caught. 

I  do  not  know  how  common  the  red  fox  now  is 
over  the  country  from  East  to  West,  but  forty  odd 
years  ago  he  was  to  be  found  almost  anywhere.  Dr. 
Abbott  writes  that  in  the  vicinity  of  Trenton,  N.  J., 
the  fox  could  be  considered  as  extinct  eight  years  ago, 
although  at  that  time  he  appeared  together  with  the 
wild-cat  at  long  intervals.  But  in  the  Pemigewas- 
set  and  Merrimac  valleys,  ~New  Hampshire,  he  is 
certainly  very  common  indeed  ;  only  last  summer  I 


220     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


found  the  retreats  of  four  wily  individuals  who  lived 

within   a   radius  of   three   miles  in  the  valley  first 

named.     One  of  them  visited  a  neighboring  farm  one 

morning  very  early,  before  the  family  appeared,  and 

was  seen  complacently  sitting  in  the  middle 

of  the  road  not  far  from  the  pet  white 

cat.     Puss  did  not   seem  in  the  least 

disconcerted   by  the   strange  visitor 

although  he  sat  not  ten  yards 

away  ;      undoubtedly      he 

would   have    found    his 

match   in  the  cat  if 

he  had    dared   to 

attack  her. 

Reynard's  proper 
environment  is  the 
hillside  pasture  that 
borders  the  wood ; 
here  he  is  seen — if 
one  is  lucky  enough 
to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  him — at  the  best 
advantage ;  his  bushy  tail,  his  splendid  coat,  and  his 
vigilant  eye  are  not  eclipsed  by  the  leafy  under- 
growth of  the  half -lit  woods ;  and,  what  is  best  of 
all,  one  has  a  good  chance  to  see  his  nimble  legs  beat 
a  hasty  retreat.  There  is  nothing  doglike  in  his  ap- 


In  the  hillside  pasture. 


THE  FARMER'S  SLY  NEIGHBOR.  221 

pearance  except  it  be  his  pointed  ears ;  but  even  these 
have  a  certain  unmistakable  foxy  air  about  them,  and 
in  a  flash,  when  Reynard  is  gone,  one's  first  impres- 
sion that  the  strange  creature  was  a  dog  is  promptly 
dismissed.  No  dog  ever  had  a  tail  like  that,  nor  was 
there  ever  one  so  lithe  and  agile  in  his  movements. 
Reynard  appears  and  reappears  in  and  out  among  the 
sweet  fern  with  scarcely  the  rustle  of  a  leaf  or  the 
waving  of  a  fern  frond  ;  that  is  his  way.  We  could 
trace  any  clumsy  dog's  course  by  the  agitation  he  cre- 
ated among  the  leaves ;  but  Reynard  is  accustomed 
to  steal  noiselessly  after  his  prey ;  the  motion  of  a 
fern  might  cost  him  his  dinner. 

In  the  morning  and  in  the  evening,  in  May  and 
in  October,  in  summer  and  even  in  midwinter,  we 
can  hear  his  short,  sharp,  nervous,  rasping  bark ;  so 
strange  is  it  that  I  scarcely  know  what  to  liken  it  to. 
Perhaps  it  resembles  the  stridulous,  rasping  sneeze 
of  an  old  backwoodsman,    or  the  harsh  tones  of  a 
parrot,  uttered  fortissimo.     For  the  sake  of  a  clearer 
idea  of  the  'kind  of  a  bark  the  fox  makes,  I  may  as 
well  show  how  it  can  be  rendered  by  musical  notes  : 
n.    pr»r,x=:  ff          ^ie  setter  dog  has  quite  a  dif- 
ferent tone  and,  like  all  dogs, 
he  gives  a  series  of  short  barks, 

each  one  of  which  may  be  fairly  represented  by  a 
single  note  with  an  introductory  grace  note.  The 


222     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

fox's  bark,  however,  is  one  sliort,  suddenly  loud 
squally  bearing  not  the  remotest  resemblance  to  the 
bark  of  a  setter.  The  terrier's  bark  may  be  a  great 
deal  nearer  in  pitch,  but  it  is  quite  as  far  off  in  qual- 
ity of  tone.  Indeed,  between  the  dog  and  the  fox 
there  is,  after  all,  very  little  similitude. 

Reynard's  burrow  is  usually  on 
the  border  of  the  wood,  and  per- 
haps beside  some  old  stump ;  not 
infrequently  he    resorts    to    safer 
retreats   beneath  the  broken  rocks 
which   have   fallen  from  the  steep 
ledges  of  some  mountain.     He  is  a 
rather  strong  -  smelling  animal,  and 
his  home  is  consequently  not  without 
a  characteristic  odor,  all  the  more 
apparent  in  the  dampness  of 
a  summer  evening.     The  fe- 
male  bears   her  young 
anywhere  from  the 
middle  of  March  to 

the  middle  Of  April.  Reynard's  bUmwT 

She  has  from  four 

to  eight  little  ones,  with  the  prettiest  faces  imagin- 
able. They  make  famous  pets  when  captured  early 
in  life,  but  unfortunately  turn  out  treacherous  and 
sly  in  the  end. 


THE  FARMER'S  SLY  NEIGHBOR.  223 

The  largest  and  finest  red  fox  skins  come  from 
Canada,  Labrador,  Michigan,  and  Minnesota  ;  these 
sell  for  a  dollar  and  a  half  or  a  dollar  and  eighty-five 
cents,  according  to  quality  and  size. 

The  gray  fox  ( Urocyon  cinereo-argenteus)  is  rare- 
ly if  ever  found  in  New  England  nowadays.*  He 


is  small,  and  it  is  said  that  he  has  been  driven  out  by 
the  larger  red  fox.  But  in  the  middle  West  he  is  still 
common  from  southern  Michigan  to  western  New 
York,  and  from  northern  Indiana  to  South  Carolina 
and  Tennessee.  His  coarse  fur,  which  is  stiff  and 
long  haired,  is  blackish  mixed  with  silver-gray,  behind 
and  beneath  the  ears  is  a  rusty  tinge,  and  the  upper 
part  of  the  tail  is  very  dark,  characterized  by  long 
black  hairs.  The  skin  is  worth  about  sixty-five  cents. 

*  According  to  Prof.  J.  A.  Allen,  his  most  Northern  range  is  not 
much  beyond  the  parallel  of  42°. 


224:     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

The  so-called  "  silver  "  fox  of  the  far  West  is  valued 
for  his  remarkably  beautiful  skin,  which  brings  no  less 
than  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  if  it  is  in  its 

prime.       The   handsomest 
skins  come  from  the  ex- 
treme Northwest.    But 
I  must  draw  attention 
to  the  fact  that  there 
?-=-    are  but  two  species 

p$\ 
Silver-gray  Fox.  of   f  OX6S  Common  in 

the  country  east  of 

the  Mississippi  Valley  :  one  is  Vulpes  pennsylvani- 
cus,  and  the  other  is  Urocyon  cinereo-argenteus.  The 
former  species,  usually  called  the  common  or  red  fox, 
is  now  considered  the  one  species  which  must  include 
the  so-called  "  silver  "  fox  ( Vulpes  argentatus),  the 
so-called  "  cross  "  fox  *  (  Vulpes  decussatus\  and  the 
so-called  Western  fox  (  Vulpes  macrurus). 

The  generally  accepted  opinion  that  the  color  of  a 
fox  decides  the  species,  is  thrown  to  the  winds  by 

*  The  "  cross  "  fox  is  more  or  less  frequent  as  far  south  as 
northern  New  York  and  northern  New  England,  and  throughout 
the  more  elevated  portions  of  the  great  Rocky  Mountain  plateau, 
where  it  constitutes  a.large  proportion  of  the  representatives  of 
the  so-called  Vulpes  macrurus.  More  rarely  the  black  or  so-called 
silver  fox  is  met  with  in  the  same  regions,  becoming  frequent  in 
the  higher  parts  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  northward. — J.  A. 
Allen.  Bulletin  of  the  United  States  Geographical  Survey,  vol. 
ii,  No.  4,  Washington. 


THE  FARMER'S  SLY  NEIGHBOR.  225 

Prof.  J.  A.  Allen,  who  is  an  unquestionably  high  au- 
thority in  the  definition  of  species.  Here  is  what  he 
has  to  say  about  the  common  fox  :  "  In  the  common 
fox  we  meet  with  a  range  of  color  variation  irrespec- 
tive of  locality,  somewhat  akin  to  that  seen  in  the 
wolf  (Canis  lupus).  The  prevalent  tendency,  how- 
ever, is  toward  melanism,*  which  tendency  is  much 
more  strongly  developed  in  the  colder  than  in  the 
warmer  latitudes.  Frequently  individuals  of  the  me- 
lanistic  type  occur  in  litters  of  the  common  variety. 
The  varying  degrees  of  melanism  occurring  in  this 
species  have  given  rise  to  several  commercial  vari- 
eties, which  have  received  at  the  hands  of  naturalists 
systematic  designation,  and  have  been  regarded  more 
or  less  commonly  as  valid  species.  Generally  these 
melanistic  varieties  are  more  fully  furred  and  have 
larger  and  heavier  tails  than  the  common  form.  The 
difference  in  the  fineness  and  softness  of  the  fur  is 
recognized  to  such  an  extent  by  furriers  as  to  greatly 
affect  the  price  of  the  skins ;  the  so-called  e  silver ' 
and  '  cross  '  furs  being  considered  far  more  valuable 
than  the  fulvous  type. 

"  With  this  tendency  to  great  variability  in  color, 
we  meet,  as  usual  in  such  cases,  a  great  variation  in 


*  Melanism,  or  melanosis,  from  /ieAcu/axrw,  which  means  a  be- 
coming black. 
16 


226     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

size.  In  the  present  case  the  variation  in  color  may 
be  properly  regarded  as  geographical  through  an  in- 
creasing tendency  to  melanism  northward.  The  vari- 
ation in  size  is  also  chiefly  of  the  same  character,  the 
size  uniformly  increasing  toward  the  North.  The 
largest  specimens  come  from  the  Aleutian  Islands 
and  Alaska,  and  the  smallest  from  Essex  County, 
New  York. 

"  The  foxes  of  the  colder  regions,  it  is  true,  have  a 
fuller  and  softer  pelage,  a  greater  tendency  to  mela- 
nism, shorter  muzzles,  and  are  larger ;  yet  these  differ- 
ences are  so  inconstant — especially  the  differences  of 
color — and  so  insensibly  intergrade  that  any  attempt 
at  their  subspecific  recognition  seems  impracticable, 
the  most  diverse  varieties  in  color  occurring  at  the 
same  localities  and  even  among  individuals  of  the 
same  litter." 

So  it  appears  that  the  particular  foxes  called  red, 
black,  silver,  and  cross  are  all  one  species,  with  a  com- 
mercial difference ;  that  is  all.  But  that  difference 
expressed  in  dollars  and  cents  is  quite  considerable. 
I  find  that  the  dearest  red  fox  skin  is  quoted  at  a 
dollar  and  eighty-five  cents,  and  the  cheapest  at  fifty 
cents  ;  the  dearest  "  cross  "  skin  at  nine  dollars,  and 
the  cheapest  at  seventy -five  cents.  The  dark  "  silver  " 
is  quoted  at  from  one  hundred  and  twenty -five  to  ten 
dollars,  and  the  pale  at  from  fifty  to  five  dollars. 


THE  FARMER'S  SLY  NEIGHBOR.  227 

The  "  cross  "  fox  is  so  named  because  a  dark  band 
between  the  shoulders  is  crossed  by  another  extend- 
ing over  the  shoulders.  The  muzzle  and  under  parts 
with  the  legs  are  black,  and  the  remainder  of  the 
body  is  a  tawny  color. 


CHAPTEK  XIV. 


A   FLEET-FOOTED   NEIGHBOR  IN  THE  WOODS. 

The  Virginia  Deer. 

\ 

To  "  run  like  a  deer  "  means  to  run  like  the  fleet- 
est-footed member  of  that  highest  division  of  animal 

life  in  the  world  called 
Mammalia.  Now  the 
term  Mammalia  is  a 
significant  one  with  a 
world  of  meaning  in  it 
which  few,  perhaps,  fully 
appreciate.*  It  means  that 
the  closest  possible  relationship 
exists  between  the  mother  and 
her  young.  And  perhaps  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  examples 
of  a  mother  and  her  young 
among  the  animals  is  the  soft-eyed  deer  and  her 
dainty,  snow-spotted  fawn. 

*  The  essential  character  of  a  creature  belonging  to  the  great 
group  called  Mammalia  is  that  it  is  wholly  dependent  upon  its 

228 


Head  of  a  Deer  about  five 
years  old. 


A  FLEET-FOOTED  NEIGHBOR  IN  THE  WOODS.     229 


The  Virginia  deer  (Cariacus  virginianus)  is  not 
only  the  fleetest  but  the  most  sympathetically  attract- 


great  group.     One  who 
into  the  liquid  eyes  of  a 
its  mother,  and  after- 
a  gun  at  one  or  the 
tent   to    destroy,   fol- 


ive  animal  of  this 
has  once  looked 
young  fawn  and 
ward  has  aimed 
other  with   in- 
lowing  up  the  in- 
tent with  its  accom- 
plishment, burdens  his 
conscience   with  a  sort 
of  questionable  guilt  for 
the    rest    of     his    days. 
To  slay  such  beautiful 
creatures   seems  some- 
thing  not  far  short  of 
murder ;   but    there    is 
the  venison  to  be  considered,  and  as  that  is  the  meat 
of  the  epicure  one's  conscience  must  be  smothered. 

It  would  seem  as  if  I  stretched  a  point  to  include 
this  rare  animal  in  my  list  of  familiar  life ;  but  I  do 
not.  Times  have  changed  and  the  deer  is  not  as  rare 
as  he  was.  Last  summer  there  were  many  complaints 

mother  for  nourishment  during  the  helpless  period  of  its  infancy. 
The  Mammalia,  in  a  word,  are  animals  which  suckle  their  young  ; 
the  term  is  derived  from  the  Latin,  mamma,  meaning  "the  breast." 
Thus,  we  undoubtedly  have  sufficient  reason  to  believe  the  endear- 
ing name  mamma  had  its  origin  with  the  Latin  word. 


Virginia  Deer. 


230     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


coming    from   the    farmers   in   Vermont   and   New 
Hampshire  because  the  animal  had  made  some  havoc 
in  their  cornfields.     I  do  not  know  how  much  of  an 
'excuse  such  complaints  were  to  secure  a  modification 
in  the   strict  game  laws  of   both 
States,    but   I 
suspect       the 
average  farm- 
er    was    anx- 
ious  to  get  a 
better  chance  at  a 
deer.      At    pres- 
ent the  laws  are 
so     comprehen- 
sive and  effect- 
ual that  the  deer 
has  a  chance  at 

the  farmer!  a  fact  of  such  slight  consequence  that 
I  think  we  have  no  sufficient  reason  to  regret  it. 

O 

Thrice,  last  summer,  three  deer  made  their  appearance 
within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  my  hillside  studio,  and 
once  two  young  ones  appeared  close  by  the  pasture 
fence  on  the  border  of  the  wood,  not  more  than  fifty 
feet  from  the  piazza  rails.  Repeatedly  deer  had  been 
seen  on  the  highway  in  the  spring,  and  once  one  was 
chased  on  the  track  by  a  passing  train. 

In  1867  when,  as  a  child,  I  was  taken  on  a  tour 


Two  young  Deer  at  El  Fureidis. 


A  FLEET-FOOTED   NEIGHBOR  IN  THE  WOODS.     231 

through  the  Adirondack  woods,  there  was  not  much 
choice  of  meat  either  at  Paul  Smith's,  Bartlett's,  or 
the  guide's  camp ;  it  was  pork  or  venison — which 
would  we  have  ?  I  need  not  say  which  we  always 
chose,  and  as  a  consequence  the  bill  of  fare  was  like 
a  delightful  "  theme  with  variations,"  thus  :  Break- 
fast, venison — roast,  broiled,  or  fried.  Dinner,  veni- 
son— fried,  broiled,  or  roast.  Supper,  da  capo. 
Twenty  years  after,  when  I  went  over  exactly  the 
same  extended  route,  I  looked  in  vain  for  a  sports- 
man with  his  antlered  game ;  and  at  the  table  an  elab- 
orate menu,  with  a  picture  of  a  deer  at  the  top,  was 
handed  to  me  to  choose  my  dinner  from — alas  for 
the  wilderness  !  it  was  no  more.  There  was  no  such 
word  as  venison  on  the  card.* 

But  of  late  years  the  game  laws  are  beginning  to 
bear  fruit,  and  the  deer  is  again  on  the  increase  in 
New  York,  Vermont,  and  New  Hampshire.  On 
what  does  he  subsist  in  the  snowbound  forests  of  the 
North  ?  How  does  he  endure  the  cold  ?  These  are 
questions  not  so  difficult  to  answer.  As  soon  as  the 
fall  comes  his  hair  grows  twice  as  thick  as  it  was  in 
midsummer,  so  thick,  in  fact,  that  it  helps  to  float 


*  Up  to  1882  from  five  hundred  to  eight  hundred  deer  were 
killed  annually  for  the  preceding  ten  years ;  that  would  make  a 
fair  estimated  total  of  six  thousand  five  hundred  slain  in  this 
decade  ;  no  wonder  venison  was  scarce  in  1887  ! 


232     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


him  in  water ;  by  December  it  is  like  a  door  mat,  but 
not  quite  so  coarse.  He  sheds  his  coat  gradually 
twice  a  year,  in  June  and  September,  and  it  changes 
in  color  from  red-brown  in  summer 


Lycopodium  obscurum. 


Lycopodium  clavatum. 


to  gray  in  winter.  For  food  he  has  young  twigs — 
those  of  the  black  birch  he  especially  relishes — the 
foliage  of  the  arbor  vitse  (Thuja  occidentalis)*  hem- 
lock, and  fir ;  digging  through  the  snow  with  his 


*  The  margins  of  some  of  the  Adirondack  lakes  are  thickly 
overhung  with  the  branches  of  the  arbor  vitae ;  these  are  often 
stripped  off  for  a  distance  of  five  feet  up  the  trunks  of  the  trees, 
the  result  of  the  feeding  of  deer  which  have  wintered  in  the  vi- 
cinity. 


YOUNG  DEER. 

CARIACUS    VIRGINIANUS,    OR 

ODOCOILEUS   VIRGINIANUS. 

"He  works  his  way  toward  the 

shore  of  the  lake." 

Photographed  from  nature  by  W.  Lyman  Underwood. 


A  FLEET-FOOTED  NEIGHBOR  IN  THE  WOODS.     233 


hoofs  he  feeds  upon  the  wintergreen  (Gaultheria 
procumbens\  the  lycopodiums,  and  many  other  green 
tilings,  like  mosses  and  lichens.  Early  in  the  spring 
he  gradually  works  his  way  toward  the  shores  of  the 
lakes,  and  finds  there  pickerel  weed,  lily  pads,  and 
spatter-dock  ;  as  the  season  advances  he  approaches 
the  outskirts  of  civilization  and  crops  the 
new  meadow  grasses  near  the  farms ;  he 
even  ventures  as  far  as  the  pasture  bars, 
not  infrequently  feeding  in  company  with 


Lycopodium  complanatum.  Pickerel  Weed. 

the  cows  ;  but  the  latter  are  inclined  to  be  suspicious 
of  the  strangers  and  sometimes  move  off  to  another 
part  of  the  field. 


234:     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

From  spring  to  autumn  his  food  consists  of  nu- 
merous herbs,  grasses,  aquatic  plants,  leaves  of  shrubs 
and  trees,  and  the  berries  of  the  mountain  ash  and 
dwarf  cornel.  "When  beech  nuts  are  plenty— the  trees 
bear  in  alternate  years — these  constitute  a  large  por- 
tion of  his  fare.  By  the  middle  of  September  the 

deer  in  the  Adirondack 
region  desert  the  water 
courses  and  retire  to  the 
more  secluded  parts  of  the 
forest.*  Here  they  congre- 
gate during  the  deep  snows 
of  winter  in  what  are  called 
deer  yards ;  these  are  certain 
sheltered  localities  where 

the  heavy  snow  is  trampled  down  and  pathways  lead 
in  all  directions  toward  promising  food  supplies,  and 
where  under  thickets  of  spruce  and  fir  the  animals 
find  sufficiently  comfortable  beds.  Mr.  Yerplanck 
Colvin,  speaking  of  one  of  these  deer  yards,  describes 
it  as  resembling  a  sheep  yard  in  winter.f 

The  deer  is  not  a  strictly  nocturnal  animal,  al- 
though he  haunts  the  shores  of  the  Adirondack  lakes 


*  Vide  Transactions  of  the  Linnaean  Society.  Animals  of  the 
Adirondacks.  Dr.  C.  H.  Merriam. 

f  Vide  Report  of  the  Adirondack  Survey  for  1880,  Ver- 
planck  Colvin. 


A  FLEET-FOOTED  NEIGHBOR  IN  THE  WOODS.     235 


through  all  hours  of  the  night ;  he  is  also  frequently 
seen  browsing  in  the  grassy  glades  of  the  forest  dur- 
ing the  afternoon  hours,  and  when  I  saw  the  two 
animals  near  our  cottage  in  the  White  Mountains, 
last  summer,  it  was  as  late  as  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  On  another  occasion 
up  a  deer  shortly  after  midday 
quietly  feeding  in  a 
forest  opening  on  a 
mountain  side.  Dr. 
Merriam,  however, 
says  that  it  is  the 
habit  of  Adiron- 
dack deer  to  visit 
the  water  at 
night  and  retire 
to  the  depths 
of  the  forest 
at  break  of 

day.  Unquestionably  different  individuals  are  timid 
to  a  greater  or  less  degree  ;  that  is  perfectly  plain  in 
their  conduct.  One  will  not  venture  abroad  in  full 
daylight,  and  another  has  not  only  been  browsing  in 
the  open  during  the  greater  part  of  the  day,  but  has 
joined  company  with  the  cows  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  attracted,  perhaps,  by  the  little  trough 
containing  salt  for  the  cattle  lodged  close  beside  the 


•Quietly  feeding  in  a  forest  opening." 


236     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


pasture  bars.  A  glance  at  a  timid  deer  shows  that 
all  his  faculties  are  on  the  alert :  the  head  is  erect, 
the  broad  ears  are  turned  in  the  direction  of  danger, 
the  eyes  intently  peer  at  a  single  leaf  that  waggles 
in  a  passing  zephyr,  the  nostrils  are  distended  and  in 
motion,  j^  and  an  uneasy  fore  foot  is  poised 
for  a  run.  When  the  animal  is 
at  last  satisfied  that 


Running  Deer  (from  a  photograph). 

his  safety  is  threatened,  the  spindlelike  legs  are 
raised,  there  are  a  few  graceful  bounds  rather  than 
steps  over  the  intervening  ferns  and  lichen -covered 
stones,  and  the  creature  is  gone.  But  in  a  swift  run 
he  covers  the  ground  like  an  india-rubber  ball,  touch- 
ing it  only  at  every  sixteen  feet  maybe. 

The  beautiful  antlers  of  the  deer  are  shed  and  re- 
newed each  year — the  so-called  "  spike  horn,"  or  ant- 
lers without  any  branches,  belong  to  an  animal  about 


A  FLEET-FOOTED  NEIGHBOR  IN  THE  WOODS.     237 


a  year  old.  The  two-branched  horn  belongs  to  a 
deer  three  years  old,  and  so  on.  Very  rarely  indeed 
a  female  will  develop  a  spike  horn  covered  with  vel- 
vet. This  velvety  covering  of  the  antlers  when  they 


The  spike  horn.  Antlers  four  years  old.       Antlers  three  years  old. 

first  appear  is  a  most  remarkable  part  of  the  develop- 
ment of  the  horns.  I  quote  in  part  what  Dr.  Mer- 
riam  has  to  say  regarding  it :  "  The  new  horns  of  a 
deer  in  the  Adirondacks  are  first  seen  about  the  mid- 
dle of  May ;  they  appear  like 
soft,  dark-colored  excrescences 
which,  as  they  rapidly  elongate, 
harden  from  below  upward. 
By  the  time  the  growth,  which 
is  accomplished  in  about  three 
months,  is  completed,  all  but 
the  tips  is  well  ossified ;  the 
soft,  velvetlike  skin  now  begins 
to  peel  off  in  irregular  shreds, 
and  by  the  first  or  middle  of 
September  the  horns  are  generally  clean.  This  vel- 
vet does  not  come  away  of  itself,  but  the  animal  rubs 


The  skin  now  begins  to  peel 
off  in  irregular  shreds." 


238     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

it  off  against  small  trees,  as  if  the  antlers  itched." 
Judge  Caton,  of  Ottawa,  says :  "  The  evidence  which 
I  have  derived  from  a  great  number  of  observations 
made  through  a  course  of  years  is  conclusive  that 
Nature  prompts  the  animal  to  denude  its  antlers  of 
their  covering  at  a  certain  period  of  growth,  while 
yet  the  blood  has  as  free  access  to  it  as  it  ever  had." 

Four  months  after  the  antlers  have  fully  matured 
they  fall  off  again.  The  largest  and  handsomest  horns 
come  from  middle-aged  deer  ;  those  with  few  prongs 
come  from  young  or  very  old  animals,  and  sometimes 
from  a  very  ill-conditioned  or  sickly  one. 

The  rutting  season  of  the  deer  is  in  November ; 
during  this  month  the  bucks  rush  wildly  about  and 


"The  bucks  fight  like  troopers.1' 

fight  like  troopers.  As  a  consequence,  that  mag- 
nificent game  park  established  by  the  late  Austin 
Corbin  in  the  wild  and  picturesque  region  of  Suna- 
pee,  !N".  H.,  has  to  be  closed  to  all  visitors.  I  am  told 
that  it  is  not  safe  to  meet  a  deer  on  the  grounds  while 
he  is  in  this  pugnacious  state  of  mind  ;  it  is  not  infre- 


a 


A  FLEET-FOOTED  NEIGHBOR  IN  THE  WOODS.     239 

quently  the  case  that  he  will  attack  a  man  and  do 
some  fearful  work  with  horns  and  sharp  hoofs.  In- 
deed, the  wild  and  rampant  creature  at  this  time  for- 
feits all  claim  to  that  mild  and  attractive  disposition 
which  is  his  usual  attribute  ;  his  neck  is  greatly  en- 
larged, he  fights  furiously  with  his  fellow  bucks,  and 
sometimes  loses  his  life  in  a  desperate  encounter 
through  the  locking  of  the  antlers.  When  this  hap- 
pens in  the  wild  woods  the  animals  can  not  separate, 
and  both  miserably  perish  of  exhaustion  and  starva- 
tion. What  a  strange  tragedy  of  Nature  !  Dr.  Mer- 
riam  says  that  his  father  possessed  a  set  of  locked  ant- 
lers which  he  found  on  the  frozen  carcasses  of  two 
deer  which  had  perished  on  the  ice  in  Pine  Creek, 
N.  Y.  Audubon  also  states  that  he  once  saw  three 
pairs  of  antlers  interlocked,  and  remarks  upon  the 
pathetic  sight  the  owners  must  have  made  as  they 
slowly  starved  in  the  midst  of  plenty.  But  Audubon 
did  not  take  into  account  the  fact  that  exhaustion 
shortened  the  animals'  lives,  and  mercifully,  there- 
fore, the  period  of  their  starvation. 

As  a  rule,  the  female  deer  bears  two  fawns — one 
is  quite  the  exception — and  these  are  born  in  the 
month  of  May ;  they  are  quick  at  making  use  of  their 
slender,  long  legs.  The  little  fawn  is  prettiest  when 
he  is  about  a  month  and  a  half  old  ;  the  sides  are 
spotted  with  white,  the  face  is  delicately  graded  with 


240     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


deeper  and  paler  color,  and  the  eyes  are  unusually 
large  and   expressive.     The   dainty   creature   is  the 


gracefulness    in    move- 
pearance ;    nothing    is 
than  the  airiness    of 


Female  Deer. 


very  embodiment  of 
ment  as  well  as  ap- 
more     charming 
his    little    leaps 
over  the  uneven  turf, 
and  he  is  perfectly  sure- 
footed ;  I  doubt  wheth- 
er any  one  ever  saw  a 
young     deer      stumble. 
He   is    an  inquisitive 
little  animal  too,  con- 
stantly mixing  his  ex- 
treme timidity  with  an   overwhelming   curiosity   to 
know  what  a  strange-looking  object  is  made  of,  and 

trusting  to  his  agile 
legs  to  escape  if 
it    should    prove 
dangerous.     He  is 
also  omnivorous,  like 
the    goat,    and     eats 
anything  that  comes 

A  young  Fawn.  along.      There    is    a 

record  of  one  young 

fawn  who  was  reckless  enough  to  devour  a  paper  of 
chewing  tobacco  which  happened  to  come  within  his 


A  FLEET-FOOTED  NEIGHBOR  IN  THE  WQODS.     241 

reach ;  but  he  paid  the  penalty  of  his  rashness  with 
his  life  the  next  day. 

Yery  young  fawns  bleat  like  little  lambs,  and  the 
voice  of  a  doe  is  a  high-pitched  and  tremulous  whistle 
or  squeal.  It  is  said  that  a  buck  when  he  is  surprised 
and  frightened  utters  a  sharp,  shrill  whistle.  But  he 
is  far  from  a  coward,  like  the  bear,  and  he  runs  only 
when  he  is  persuaded  that  his  horns  and  hoofs  are 
not  equal  to  the  emergency. 

If  the  deer  meets  a  rattlesnake  in  the  woods  he 
considers  it  a  deadly  enemy  and  jumps  upon  it  with 
"  all  fours,"  cutting  it  to  pieces  with  his  sharp  hoofs  ; 
indeed,  he  is  quite  capable  of  kicking  a  man  into  un- 


"  Swimming  across  the  lake." 


consciousness  by  springing  upon  him  with  his  sharp- 
hoofed  fore  feet.  When  he  is  swimming  across  a  lake 
the  rash  and  unsophisticated  hunter  who  is  sufficiently 
near  to  grab  him  by  the  antlers,  does  so  at  the  risk  of 
a  broken  arm,  for  still  the  active  limbs  are  ready  to 
inflict  a  stunning  blow.  The  only  way  to  seize  a  deer 


FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


in  the  water  is  by  the  tail — an  unreachable  member  ; 
for  the  animal  is  an  expert  and  swift  swimmer,  who 
learned  the  art  when  he  was  but  three  or  four  months 
old,  and  now  that  he  is  older  his  legs  are  by  no  means 
hampered  by  so  light  a  task. 

Contending  for  half  the  year  with  the  severities  of 
a  hard  climate  where  the  mercury  frequently  drops 
thirty  degrees  below  zero ;  chased  not  infrequently  by 
his  deadliest  enemy,  the  panther 
(Felis  concolor) ; 
hunted  night 
and  day  by 
another 


Two  young  Female  Deer. 

not  less  deadly  enemy,  man,  the  wonder  is  that  the 
Virginia  deer  survives  in  the  face  of  such  terrific 
odds.  But,  given  a  fair  chance,  he  holds  his  own  in 
the  wilderness,  and  with  the  protection  of  admirably 
effective  game  laws,  there  is  no  reason  why  he  should 
not  increase. 

In  the  Adirondacks  there  have  been  three  ways 
in  common  practice  of  hunting  the  deer  :  The  first  is 
by  shooting  him  at  night,  as  he  feeds  on  the  margin 


A  FLEET-FOOTED  NEIGHBOR  IN  THE  WOODS.     243 

of  the  lake,  with  the  aid  of  a  "  jack  "  light — a  sort  of 
reflector  lantern  which  casts  all  its  light  ahead  from 
the  bow  of  a  boat  in  which  the  hunter  is  concealed  by 
the  darkness.  This  method  takes  advantage  of  the  in- 
ordinate curiosity  of  the  animal,  and  he  loses  his  life 
by  allowing  the  mysterious  light  to  approach  too 
near.  The  second  is  by  driving— that  is,  by  chasing 
him  with  hounds  in  daytime,  and  driving  him  into  the 
lake,  on  the  shore  of  which  the  sportsman  is  posted 
with  his  boat,  so  that  he  can  easily  pursue  and  shoot 
him.  And  the  third  is  by  still-hunting — that  is,  by 
following  his  tracks  over  the  snow  in  winter  and 
shooting  him  after  a  prolonged  chase  in  his  forest 
home,  perhaps  under  some  fallen  tree  top  where  he 
has  taken  refuge.  A  wounded  deer  is  not  usually 
followed,  but  tracked  by  his  prints  and  blood  stains 
several  hours,  or  perhaps  the  next  day,  after  he  is 
shot.  The  reason  is  quite  obvious,  for  experienced 
hunters  say  that  a  deer  will  run  several  miles  when 
he  is  severely  wounded.  Judge  Caton  says  that  he 
has  known  of  one  that  ran  a  mile  and  a  half  after  he 
was  shot  through  both  lungs  with  a  O.M-caliber  rifle 
ball. 

In  the  State  of  New  Hampshire  hunting  the  deer 
by  hounds  is  contrary  to  law,  and  in  the  season  al- 
lowed for  shooting  the  sportsman  must  get  his  deer 
the  best  way  he  can  by  means  of  his  gun.  This  is 


244     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

the  fairest  kind  of  sport,  for  the  deer  has  an  equal 
chance  with  the  hunter ;  the  latter  must  still-hunt 
and  prove  his  skill  as  a  marksman  by  bringing  down 
his  game  by  a  single  well-directed  shot,  or  else,  with 
less  success,  he  must  make  up  his  mind  to  follow 
the  tracks  of  the  wounded  creature  several  miles  over 
the  snow-clad  hills  the  next  day. 

Not  long  ago,  a  fine  deer,  weighing  one  hundred 
and  fifty -four  pounds,  was  shot  near  my  cottage  by 
the  "fair-play  "  means  of  still-hunting,  and  my  sports- 
man neighbor,*  ever  a  good  shot  at  a  partridge, 
brought  down  his  game  with  unerring  aim. 

The  flesh  of  the  deer  is  the  most  juicy  and  pala- 
table of  all  meats,  and  it  is  also  the  most  easily  di- 
gested. The  hide  not  only  makes  excellent  heavy 
driving  gloves  and  moccasins,  but,  when  it  is  well 
dressed  and  neatly  lined,  it  makes  a  handsome  chair 
rug.  It  is  in  the  best  condition  in  November. 

*  Whose  name  is  James  McCann,  a  true  man  of  the  woods, 
whose  knowledge  of  Nature,  from  the  humblest  flower  to  the  giant 
trees  of  the  forest,  including  all  the  animals  great  and  small  that 
live  under  their  shade,  I  have  found  to  be  like  an  interesting  vol- 
ume— but  one  not  yet  published. 


CHAPTEK  XY. 

A    SEMIANNUAL    SLEEPER  AND  A  NIGHTLY 

PROWLER. 
The  Woodchuck  and  Porcupine. 

IF  one  could  shake  a  red  and  a  gray  squirrel  to- 
gether in  a  bag  until  they  merged  into  one  individual 
with  a  coat  neither  red  nor  gray,  then  blow  the  thing 
up  with  the  bellows  into 
thrice  its  former  size, 
jam  the  face  togeth- 
er, trim  down  the 
ears,  enlarge 

the  tail,  and  finish  The  woodchuck. 

by  knocking  just  half 

the  life  out  of  it,  one  would  have  a  fair  imitation 
of  the  woodchuck  or  marmot  (Arctomys  monax)* 
that  grave  and  indefatigable  old  burrower  who  in- 
habits the  field  on  every  farm  in  the  country — or 

*  His  Indian  name  is  Wenusk. 

245 


246     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

nearly  every  farm,  for  his  range  extends  from  the 
Carolinas  to  Canada,  and  from  the  seaboard  to  Mis- 
souri, Iowa,  and  Minnesota. 

The  names  of  this  familiar  American  animal  are 
both  significant  and  appropriate ;  Arctomys  comes 
from  the  Latin  arcto,  meaning  to  draw  close  together, 
in  allusion  to  the  habit  of  the  animal  of  gathering 
himself  together  in  a  ball  for  a  long  winter's  nap. 
The  specific  monax  means  a  monk,  also  remarkably 
appropriate,  for  the  animal  generally  lives  quite  by 
himself  in  the  deepest  seclusion.  As  for  the  plain 
Yankee  name  of  "  woodchuck,"  whatever  may  be  its 
serious  import,  there  used  to  be  a  legend  connected 
with  it  of  expressive  interest,  which  deserves  repeti- 
tion here. 

In  olden  times — probably  the  time  of  ^Esop — the 
lesser  animals  used  to  live  in  one  happy  country  with 
a  judge  over  them — the  dog.  One  day  a  rabbit, 
whose  burrow  adjoined  that  of  a  marmot,  complained 
to  the  latter  that  the  little  rabbits'  eyes  were  contin- 
ually filled  with  the  dirt  which  he  carelessly  threw 
out  of  his  burrow.  However,  the  marmot  paid  no 
heed  to  the  remonstrance,  and  the  rabbit  was  com- 
pelled to  appeal  to  the  judge ;  he  immediately  sent 
word  to  the  offender  that  he  must  be  more  careful  in 
the  future.  But  the  insolent  marmot,  notorious  for 
his  incivility  and  indifference,  replied  to  the  messen- 


A  SEMIANNUAL  SLEEPER.  247 

ger  that  he  would  chuck  his  dirt  where  he  d d 

pleased  !  That  settled  it ;  the  dog  has  been  hunting 
for  the  gross  offender  ever  since,  and  the  name 
"  woodchuck  "  stuck  to  the  whole  tribe. 

The  general  appearance  of  the  animal  is  not  irre- 
sistibly attractive ;  he  is  grizzly  brown  over  the  back 
and  chestnut  color  beneath ;  *  his  body  is  about  thir- 
teen and  the  tail  four  inches  long ;  he  is  so  loosely 
"  hung "  that  apparently  he  has  less  bones  in  his 
anatomy  than  a  cat.  But  who  does  not  know  the 
woodchuck  well,  and  what  country  dog  has  not  soiled 
his  nose  in  enlarging  the  endless  burrow  all  to  no 
purpose  ?  He  seems  to  be  an  encumbrance  on  the 
farm,  without  attraction  or  interest  except  for  the 
small  boy  and  the  dog. 

Not  many  years  ago  the  farmers  of  New  Hamp- 
shire, finding  the  woodchuck  an  unmitigated  bore, 
demanded  of  the  State  Legislature  some  measure  to 
relieve  them  from  the  impositions  of  the  beast.  Alas 
for  the  woodchuck !  a  bounty  of  ten  cents  was  placed 
upon  his  devoted  head,  and  he  could  venture  to  stick 
his  whiskers  beyond  the  confines  of  his  burrow  in 
safety  only  on  Sunday,  because  on  that  day,  if  his 
body  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  the  devout 
Legislature  refused  to  allow  the  bounty. 

*  Melanistic — that  is,  black — phases  of  the  woodchuck's  coat 
are  not  uncommon. 


FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

But  the  chairman  of  the  committee  appointed  to 
inquire  into  the  moral  status  of  the  woodchuck — Mr. 
C.  R.  Corning — was  too  wise  a  man  not  to  see  the 
anomalous  character  of  his  task.  So  he  turned  in  a 
report  worthy  of  a  gifted  humorist,  whose  pleasant- 
ries are  instinct  with  keen  wit  and  harmless  satire. 
Indeed,  he  most  ingeniously  aimed  over  the  wood- 
chuck's  shoulder  and  threw  the  clown's  cap  on  the 
farmer's  head.  So  the  "  beastie  "  came  off  easy  with 
the  following  uncomplimentary  comments  on  his  per- 
son :  "  Your  committee  finds  the  woodchuck  destitute 
of  any  interesting  qualities.  .  .  .  The  casual  observer 
is  not  attracted  by  the  brilliancy  of  his  colors.  .  .  . 
The  family  was  evidently  designed  and  brought  forth 
under  conditions  of  severe  simplicity.  .  .  .  The  crea- 
ture's only  purpose  in  venturing  forth  during  the 
day  is  to  get  a  good  '  lay  of  the  land.'  Like  the  bear, 
the  gait  of  the  thing  under  consideration  is  plan- 
tigrade ;  but  in  order  occasionally  to  exercise  its 
toes,  it  climbs  small  trees  and  shrubs  ;  then,  perfectly 
satisfied  that  its  pedal  extremities  are  in  good  work- 
ing trim,  it  descends  to  the  ground  and  again  resumes 
its  monotonous  waddle.  The  woodchuck,  despite  its 
deformities  of  both  mind  and  body,  possesses  some  of 
the  amenities  of  a  higher  civilization.  It  cleans  its 
face  after  the  manner  of  a  squirrel,  and  licks  its  fur 
after  the  manner  of  a  cat ;  your  committee  is  too 


A  SEMIANNUAL  SLEEPER.  249 

wise,  however,  to  be  deceived  by  this  purely  super- 
ficial observance  of  better  habits.  .  .  .  The  wood- 
chuck  is  not  only  a  nuisance  but  a  bore ;  it  burrows 
beneath  the  soil  and  then  chuckles  to  see  a  mowing 
machine,  man  and  all,  slump  into  one  of  these  holes 
and  disappear ! " 

Now   this   most  uninteresting   animal  is  a  strict 
vegetarian  ;  his  home  is  usually  on  the  border  of  a 
fertile   field   where   food    is      ^gj^^     plenty  ;    this 
consists  of  succulent  grasses 
and  herbs,  roots,  vege- 
tables, and  es- 
pecially red 

clover-  Of 

the  last  he 
is  particular- 
ly fond,  and 

"On  the  border  of  a  fertile  field." 

wherever  there 

is  a  red-clover  field  one  is  pretty  sure  to  see  either  a 

woodchuck  or  his  burrow. 

Digging  out  a  woodchuck's  hole  with  the  expec- 
tation of  finding  the  occupant,  is  an  undertaking  too 
arduous  to  find  a  fit  expression  in  words.  The  gal- 
lery slopes  off  at  an  angle  of  about  twenty-three  de- 
grees for  a  length  of  four  feet ;  then,  at  a  depth  of 
three— sometimes  only  two — feet  below  the  surface, 
it  inclines  upward  in  no  settled  direction  and  con- 


250     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

tinues  for  about  ten  feet,  but  divided  perhaps  into 
two  galleries,  each  of  which  leads  to  a  circular  cham- 
ber a  foot  in  diameter ;  in  this  there  is  a  snug  nest 
made  of  dried  grasses,  leaves,  etc.  Here  the  creature 
dwells  with  his  fields  of  plenty  directly  over  his  head, 
and  one  would  think  that,  like  the  squirrels,  when  in 
the  midst  of  abundance  he  would  set  by  a  store  of 
good  things  for  the  winter  ;  but  not  at  all.  He  is  no 
hand  at  providing  for  the  future  ;*  the  very  nature  of 
his  food  is  perishable,  and  it  is  a  question  whether  it 
would  outlast  the  cold  even  of  a  protecting  burrow. 
Yery  soon  after  the  autumnal  equinox  the  improvi- 
dent animal  retires  to  his  hole  which  he  has  now  dug 
on  the  sheltering  margin  of  the  wood,  and  he  does 
not  venture  forth  again  until  the  arrival  of  the  spring 
equinox,  which  is  sometimes  coincidental  with  the  so- 
called  "  woodchuck's  day."  f  If  the  weather  is  still 
too  cold  to  be  springlike,  his  day — which  weather- 
wise  folk  always  insist  is  a  forerunner  of  six  weeks' 
sunshine — will  be  postponed. 


*  I  actually  found  in  Brehm's  Life  of  Animals — a  very  good 
Natural  History,  by  the  way — the  absurdly  incorrect  statement 
that  the  woodchuck  in  the  fall  occupies  himself  in  collecting 
provender  for  the  coming  winter ! 

f  In  different  localities  the  times  of  the  woodchuck  are  also 
different ;  farther  south,  he  reappears  about  the  middle  of  March, 
and  in  the  valley  of  the  Connecticut  he  remains  out  until  No- 
vember. 


A  SEMIANNUAL  SLEEPER.  251 

He  is  the  most  remarkable  of  all  hibernating  ani- 
mals ;  no  other  creature  sleeps  so  profoundly  or  so 
long.    Only  the  little  flying  squirrel  is  at  all  like  him. 
The  gray  squirrel  sleeps  exclusively  through  the  se- 
verest part  of  winter ;  the  chipmunk  wakes  up  to 
partake  of  his  plentiful  stores,  and  quite  frequently 
takes  a  peep  at  the  outside  world,  and  the  chickaree 
is  abroad  all  winter  except  when  it  is  violently  cold. 
But  the  woodchuck  is  a  sleeper.     All  the  preparation 
he  makes  for  the  cold  and  foodless  winter  is  an  inor- 
dinate stuffing  of  himself  with  red  clover  in  the  latter 
part  of  September.     He  enters  his  hole,  therefore, 
with  excessively  sleek  and  fat  sides,  and  somehow  or 
other  lives  on  his  accumulated  fat  through  the  long 
season  of  ice   and   snow.     In  his  dormant  state  the 
heart  action   is   greatly  slackened  and  respiration  is 
only  detected  by  an  instrument  designed  for  the  pur- 
pose, which  must  be  very  delicately  adjusted.    He  can 
be  rolled  about  like  a  ball  without  seeming  to  be  in 
the  slightest  way  inconvenienced  or  disturbed ;    he 
will   awaken   in   a   warm   room,  but   goes   to   sleep 
again  without  an  effort.     Of  course,  with  warm  sur- 
roundings and  plenty  of   food  he  will  not  sleep  as 
he  does  in  a  state   of   Nature  ;    but    his  hereditary 
habit  is  strong,  and    he  can   never   be  called  thor- 
oughly awake  in  midwinter  under   the  best  of  cir- 
cumstances. 


252     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


In  September  the  woodchuck  sits  by  his  hole  the 
perfect  image  of  listlessness  ;  he  is  as  absolutely  mo- 
tionless as  a  "  bump  on  a  log."  Possibly  he  medi- 
tates upon  the  changing  aspect  of  Nature,  at  any  rate 
he  does  not  move  a  muscle,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether 
his  mind  works.  _  Approach  him  never  so 

cautiously  and  he  pops 
in  without    a    prelimi- 
nary   movement.      On 
one  occasion,  though, 
I   did    actually   see 
»/    him  change  his  po- 

j\ 

1    sition  before  he  dis- 
appeared.     At    first 
he  was  upright,  then 
on     my    nearer    ap- 
proach   he     dropped 
horizontally,  and  when 

I  got  to  within  ten  feet  of  him  he  was  gone.  Pres- 
ently I  took  a  harmonicon  from  my  pocket  and 
played  softly  upon  it ;  being  highly  susceptible  to 
the  sweet  influences  of  music  he  reappeared  at  his 
doorstep,  and,  with  a  slight  expression  of  disturbance 
on  his  usually  dull  countenance,  eyed  me  with  some 
curiosity  and  disapproval.  I  imagined  if  he  pos- 
sessed the  power  of  speech  he  would  have  said, 
"  This  may  be  quite  a  clever  performance,  sir,  but 


"  The  perfect  image  of  listlessness." 


A  NIGHTLY  PROWLER.  253 

on   the   whole   I'd   thank  you   not   to    disturb    my 
autumn  reverie." 

When  the  woodchuck  is  tamed  he  is  not  uninter- 
esting, and  there  are  numerous  stories  told  of  his 
strange  habits  which  are  quite  amusing.  Dr.  Kel- 
logg, in  the  American  Naturalist,*  tells  of  a  tame 
marmot  he  had  which  was  allowed  to  sit  at  table  with 
the  family  in  one  of  the  children's  chairs.  This  he 
did  with  all  possible  decorum ;  but  when  he  smelled 
the  sweet  cake  and  other  tempting  viands,  he  forgot 
his  manners  and  manifested  his  pleasure  by  singing  a 
purring  kind  of  a  song,  during  the  performance  of 
which  his  lips  and  nostrils  appeared  to  be  slightly  agi- 
tated. When  the  woodchuck  is  unexpectedly  startled 
by  an  approaching  footstep  he  utters  a  sharp,  tremu- 
lous whistle  which  reminds  one  of  the  agitated  voice 
of  the  red  squirrel. 

The  female  bears  from  four  to  six  young  about 
the  end  of  April  or  the  first  of  May ;  these  remain 
with  the  mother  until  the  latter  part  of  the  summer, 
when  they  shift  for  themselves,  digging  their  own 
holes  and  hibernating  in  the  winter  quite  alone.  But 
one  adult  woodchuck  with  his  mate  inhabits  a  bur- 
row, not  more. 

Quite  unlike  him  in  both  appearance  and  habits, 

*  Vide  American  Naturalist  for  June,  1872,  vol.  vi. 


254:     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


the  porcupine  (Erethizon  dorsatus]  *  nevertheless 
strongly  resembles  this  meadow  burrower  in  one  par- 
ticular, he  is  unqualifiedly  stupid, 
far  more  stupid  than  any 
other  .//JaK^I^*''»p*/j^^g^  beast  of  the 


Porcupine  on  the  march. 

field.  But  he  can  afford  to  be,  for  he  has  few  ene- 
mies ;  all  creatures  except  the  fisher  and  the  panther 
let  him  alone.  His  fearful  quills,  which  have  an 
awkward  way  of  sticking  fast  in  everything  they 
touch  (excepting  his  own  hide),  are  formidable  things 

to  deal  with  when 
one  wants  to  seize 
him  by  the  back. 
There  it  is  !  his 
back  is  simply  prohibitive  ;  he  can  carry  it  with  un- 
concern as  slowly  as  he  pleases,  for  a  more  effective 
armor  is  not  to  be  found  outside  of  the  navy ! 

The  porcupine  can  not  even  boast  of  a  pleasing 
countenance.     To  look  one  square  in  the  face  is  to 

*  Another  significant  name,  from  ep60i£a>,  erethizo,  to  irritate 
or  provoke,  and  from  dorsum,  a  back.  Very  wrongly  the  animal 
is  often  called  a  hedgehog. 


The  quills. 


I* 

&£ 

P   £*  .=2 

i  III 


n    o     2  ft 

2    2  J  2 

W  W! 

w    H  .2  3 

S    tf  W  -i 

H      W  3  (X, 


A  NIGHTLY   PROWLER.  255 

realize  the  fact  that  Nature  has  somehow  or  other 
made  a  botch  of  it ;  its  expression  is  as  grotesque  as 
that  which  characterizes  Mr.  Tenniel's  Jabberwock  in 
Alice  in  Wonderland.  No  wonder  then,  when  we 
surprise  him  in  the  wood  shed,  his  uncanny  appear- 
ance and  sluggish  movements  give  us  a  sort  of  men- 
tal shock.  He  is  like  some  old, 
suspicious-looking  tramp  who 
is  always  seen  at  dusk  haunt- 
ing the  outskirts  of  the  farm 
buildings  and  scaring  people 
more  by  his  looks  than  his 
deeds.  When  he  appears  in 
the  daytime  he  is  usually  "  Nature  made  a  botch 
lodged  high  up  on  the  limb 

of  a  tree  ;  but,  as  a  rule,  he  remains  within  his  den 
somewhere  beneath  a  neighboring  rocky  ledge  during 
the  day,  and  issues  forth  only  at  night,  when  he  may 
be  heard  gnawing  away  at  the  foundations  of  the  old 
wood  shed.  He  is  a  nocturnal  prowler  of  the  worst 
kind,  doing  his  deeds  of  darkness — never  anything 
worse  than  the  gnawing  of  wood — in  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  the  farmhouse.  But  he  sometimes  has  a 
bad  habit  of  girdling  and  thus  ruining  the  forest 
trees,  especially  the  spruce. 

He  has  a  most  inordinate  appetite  for  salt,  and 
will  devour,  in  time,  the  whole  floor  of  the  wash  shed 


256     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


if  he  is  given  the  chance,  for  the  simple  reason  that 
it  has  been  well  seasoned  with  salt  water  from  the 
ice-cream  freezer.  He  does  not  hibernate  like  the 
woodchuck,  but  goes  abroad  both  winter  and  summer 
on  the  coldest  and  hottest  nights.  He  is  also  a  strict 
vegetarian,  feeding  on  succulent 
bark,  the  foliage  and  twigs  of 
trees,  buds,  and  beechnuts ; 
but  he  is  always  ready  to 
gnaw  a  house  down  if  it  con- 
tains a  grain  of  salt ;  and  in 
the  dead  of  the  night  he  at- 
tacks the  woodshed  door 
with  the  vim  of  a  rat  and 
ten  times  as  much  assur- 
ance, for  he  can  not  be 
driven  away  with  the 
thundering  clatter  of  old 
boots  and  sticks  of  wood 
Nine  times  in  ten  he  will 
continue  to  gnaw  until  some  one  opens  the  door 
and  clubs  him  away  with  a  respectable-sized  piece  of 
cord  wood ;  there  is  but  one  thing  he  heeds,  all  else 
fails,  that  is  the  firecracker !  Of  this  mysterious  in- 
vention of  a  refined  civilization  he  is  suspicious; 
probably  the  fiery  spluttering  more  than  the  noise 
awakens  in  his  dull  mind  some  sense  of  a  danger 


"  He  is  always  "* 
ready  to  gnaw 
a  house  down. 


against  the   partition. 


A  NIGHTLY  PROWLER.  257 

from  which   his  quills   afford   no   protection,  so  he 
moves  off. 

I  once  captured  one  in  my  wood  shed,  which  had 
busied  himself  for  several  nights  previous  by  altering 
the  contours  of  the  house  and  the  ice-cream  freezer. 
It  was  night,  I  had  no  heart  to  kill  the  creature,  so  he 
was  left  till  morning  under  an  inverted  wash  tub. 
The  next  day,  after  furnishing  the  family  with  some 
entertainment  by  his  enticing  looks,  queer  whining 
noises  (he  had  a  shrill  cry),  and  loudly  chattering 
teeth,  he  was  invited  to  move  on  with  the  aid  of  a 
shovel  and  was  dispatched  by  the  farm  hand.  He 
weighed  fully  sixteen  pounds.  His  back  was  broad, 
his  tail  flattened  and  heavy,  and  his  feet  naked  like  a 
bear's.  His  claws  were  large  and  curved,  and  these 
with  his  peculiar  tail  showed  very  plainly  that  it 
was  not  difficult  for  him  to  climb  a  tree.  This  pon- 
derous tail  of  his  is  capable  of  dealing  a  tremendous 
stinging  blow  laterally ;  when  he  hits  a  dog  with  it 
there  is  an  immediate  cessation  of  hostilities,  the  dog 
retires  with  howls  of  pain,  and  then,  while  one  de- 
votes one's  attention  to  extracting  the  quills  in  his 
mouth,  the  porcupine  gets  away.  These  quills  *  un- 
der a  microscope  are  minutely  rough  with  a  sort  of 

*  They  are  artistically  used  by  the  Indians  in  the  Northwest 
for  the  decoration  of  birch-bark  boxes,  buckskin  moccasins,  leg- 
gings, etc. ;  often  they  are  dyed  a  variety  of  colors. 
18 


258     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

bearded  formation  which  points  backward  ;  thus  they 
continually  work  deeper  into  the  flesh  unless  immedi- 
ately withdrawn.  On  the  porcupine's  back  they  in- 
cline backward,  and  are  raised  by  a  special  layer  of 
muscle  ;  but  they  are  never  shot  from  the  hide  of  the 
creature,  as  some  people  ignorantly  assert ;  the  idea  is 
too  absurd  to  receive  a  moment's  notice,  yet  there  are 
many  who  persist  in  believing  in  it. 

The  porcupine's  nest  is  sometimes  in  a  hollow  log, 
but  oftener  under  the  strewn  rocks  in  the  forest. 
The  female  bears  two — rarely  three — young  about 
the  first  of  May  ;  they  are  relatively  twenty -five  times 
as  large  as  the  young  of  the  bear  at  birth. 


"It  was  not  difficult  for  him  to 
climb  a  tree." 

Photographed  from  life  by 
W.  Lyman  Under  wood. 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 

SMALL  FOLK  WITH  LIVELY  FEET. 

The  Gray  Rabbit,  Northern  Varying  Hare,  and  the 

Squirrels. 

THE   little   gray  rabbit   (Lepus  transitionalis*) 
which  often  goes  by  the  soubriquet  of  Mollie  Cotton- 
tail, is  a  most  remarkably  prolific  animal ;  that 
is  the  first  thing  of  interest  about  the  creature. 
The  next  thing  is,  that  its  favorite  food  unfor- 
tunately is  the  buds,  young  shoots,  and  bark 
of  apple  or  peach  trees — especially  those  new 
kinds  which  one  has  set  out  in  the  orchard. 
When  the  moon  is  shining  full  over  the  glit- 
tering snow,  and  the  winter  night  is  full 
of  witchery  and  charm,  the  aesthetic  side 
of  Nature  appeals  to  one's  highest  and 
-     kegt  thoughts.     But  let  the  two  ears  of 

The  silhouette 

of  two  ears.        bunny   appear   silhouetted   against  the 

silvery  light,  and  there  is  another  side 

of  Nature  revealed  which  is  not  quite  so  charming. 

To  the  artist  the  picture  is  not  only  still  beautiful, 

*  Formerly  Lepus  sylvaticus. 

259 


260     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

but  the  accent  of  those  two  black  ears  is  just  one 
more  charm  which  rounds  out  the  "  moonlight 
monotone"  to  its  fullest  perfection. 

But  to  the  man  who  owns  the  apple  orchard, 
the  picture  ceases  to  be  beautiful;  his  eye  is  ob- 
scured with  the  black '  whisperings  of  vengeance, 
and  thinking  only  of  the  danger  threatening  his 
new  trees,  he  reaches  for  his  gun,  and  sallies  forth 
into  the  night  with  the  intention  of  making  a  red 
mark  just  under  the  two  black  ears. 

Lepus  transitionalis,  a  rabbit  of  the  woods,  is  quite 
as  frequently  a  rabbit  of  the  orchard  ;  and  the  amount 
of  damage  he  is  capable  of  doing  there  is  in- 
calculable.    He  girdles  the  trees,  gnaws 
the  lower  twigs,  and  even  climbs 
into  the  environing  shrubbery 
to  reach  the  higher  ones  and 
denude  them  of  bark  and 
buds.       But    besides    the 
apple  tree,  he  feeds  on  the 

"Mollie  Cottontail." 

briers,     sumachs,     hazels, 

black  birches,  hickories,  and  shrubbery  in  general 
which  he  finds  on  the  roadside  and  in  the  garden.  He 
has  also  other  enemies  than  man,  chief  among  which 
are  the  fox,  ermine,  eagle,  and  great  horned  owl ; 
besides  these  he  is  subject  to  attacks  by  the  snowy 
owl,  the  larger  hawks,  the  marten,  and  the  mink. 


THE   GRAY   RABBIT. 
LEPUS    TRAXSITIOXALIS. 

"  The  moonlight  monotone." 


SMALL  FOLK  WITH  LIVELY  FEET. 


261 


The  readiness,  however,  with  which  he  can  escape 
from  a  pursuer  in  an  open  chase  saves  him  from  easy 
destruction.  For  any  swift-footed 
animal  to  catch  a  rabbit  on  the 
run  is  a  rare  thing  ;  one  glance  at 
my  sketch  of  the  agile  creature's 
footprints  in  the  snow  will  show 

what  the  nature 

of  his   flight  is. 

Evidently  it  is  a 

series  of  extraor- 

Footprints  in  the  snow.      djnary  ^^  ^^ 

almost  all  of  the  force  of  propulsion 

exerted  by  the  hind  feet.      The  hind 

legs   of   a   rabbit    move   together   as   pe 

fectly  as  if  they  were  joined  ;  the  thrust 

is   sudden,    and   so   wide  that  ,the  hind 

legs  overlap  the  fore  legs,  striking  the 

snow  just  beyond  and  outside  of  them.     In  watch- 

ing the  leaps  of  my  pet  Manx  cat,  whose  hind  legs 

were  remarkably  long     ^       and  well   developed,  I 


His  enemy 
Snowy  Owl. 


the 


always  noticed 
he  ran  like  a 
rabbit,  and 
"  doubled 
up"   like 
those  run- 


that 


"On  the  run." 


262     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD   AND  FOREST. 


ning  horses  in  Mr.  Muy bridge's  extraordinary  photo- 
graphs ;  consequently  he  developed  a  speed  not  very 
far  short  of  that  of  the  wild  ^fes  rabbit. 

s^s&f^d^siy 

The  gray  rabbit  burrows 
in  the  earth  and  in  the 
hollows  of  decaying  trees,  and 
winters  in  quite  a  snug  retreat ; 
often  he  finds  the  deserted  burrow  of 
the  woodchuck  quite  acceptable  for 
a  home.  The  prolific  female  bears 
from  four  to  six  young,  and  she  rears  from  three 
to  four  families  a  year.  She  lines  her  nest  with 
soft  leaves,  grasses,  and  the  fur  from  her  own  body. 
In  about  thirty  days  the  young  rabbits  are  able  to 
shift  for  themselves.  Like  the  other  small  animals 
the  rabbit  forms  regular 


'  Doubled  up/' 


Very  young  Rabbit.  Young  Rabbit. 

runways,  and  in  these  he  is  easily  trapped.  He  is 
so  common  in  some  localities  that  he  may  be  seen 
day  and  night  skipping  through  the  woods,  although, 
as  a  rule,  he  is  supposed  to  bo  fairly  nocturnal  in  his 
habits. 


SMALL  FOLK  WITH  LIVELY  FEET. 


263 


ige  of 


i 

Northern  Varying  Hare  ;  summer  coat. 


His  greater  relative  who  lives  in  the  North, 
more  particularly  among  the  mountains,  is  called  the 
American  varying  hare  (Lepus  ameri- 
canus  virginianus).  This  animal  is 
remarkable  for  his  chai 
color;  in  summer  he  is 
dark-red  brown,  and 
winter  he  is  perfectly 
white.  Regarding  the 
nature  of  this  change 
I  must  repeat  in  sub- 
stance the  opinions  ex- 
pressed by  Dr.  Merriam  and  Prof.  J.  A.  Allen. 
Dr.  Merriam  says  that  when  the  change  occurs 
in  the  fall,  the  fur  lengthens  and 
blanches,  the  individual  hairs 
changing  color  after  the 
first  fall  of 
snow.  Like 
a  majority  of 
the  mammals, 
this  hare  has  two  /^f^^SST  kinds  of  fur:  an 
under  and  soft  kind  ~|^\|l4  -  which  covers  all 
parts  of  the  body,  and  "^^%^  an  upper,  longer 
and  stiffer  kind  which  is  scattered  through 

it.     This  last,  which  is  blackish  in  summer,  becomes 
in  the  fall  white  at  the  tips  first,  and  fades  down- 


264:     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 

ward.  In  spring  the  process  is  exactly  reversed — the 
exposed  portions  of  the  stiff  fur  become  black  by  the 
end  of  March,  and  while  the  animal  is  still  white 
hundreds  of  the  blackish  hairs  appear  scattered  over 
the  back,  some  of  which  are  white  in  the  middle  and 
others  white  on  the  tips.  In  the  course  of  time  the 
white  fur  loses  its  vitality,  becomes  brittle,  and  is 
brushed  off  by  the  underwood  of  the  forest. 

Professor  Allen  says  that  while  the  change  from 
brown  to  white  in  the  American  varying  hare  is  sup- 
posed to  be  largely  due  to  molt,  it  sometimes  ap- 
pears to  take  place  so  suddenly  that  it  is  popularly 
thought  to  be  due  in  some  degree  to  the  blanching  of 
the  hair ;  but  the  real  nature  of  the  change  is  not 
precisely  agreed  upon  by  naturalists,  it  is  as  yet  a 
matter  of  dispute. 

We  are  at  liberty,  then,  to  accept  any  hypothesis 
of  this  remarkable  change  of  color  which  seems  most 
reasonable ;  and  "  who  shall  decide  when  doctors 
disagree  ? " 

In  summer  this  varying  hare  feeds  upon  leaves, 
buds,  berries,  and  succulent  herbs  and  grasses.  In 
winter  he  has  to  content  himself  with  the  bark  of 
young  poplars,  birches,  willows,  and  such  berries  as 
the  snow  may  leave  uncovered ;  often,  too,  he  gets 
what  he  can  in  the  vicinity  of  the  farm  by  prowling 
around  at  night.  But  his  enemies  are  plenty — the 


SMALL  FOLK  WITH  LIVELY  FEET.  265 

same  as  those  of  the  gray  rabbit — and  he  is  ever  on 
the  alert  for  an  unexpected  attack. 

He  follows  definite  paths  of  his  own  making,  like 
the  gray  rabbit,  but  unlike  him  he  does  not  inhabit  a 
burrow.  His  nest  is  the  rather  uncertain  shelter  of  a 
fallen  tree,  or  the  covering  of  some  hollowed  log.  In 
this  he  remains  most  of  the  day  and  ventures  out  for 
food  at  night.  The  female  bears  from  four  to  six 
young  in  the  latter  part  of  May. 

This  hare  is  very  common  in  the  North  country, 
and  is  sought  in  the  early  winter  by  sportsmen,  who 
consider  his  flesh  the  best  of  eating.  Many  of  the 
animals  find  their  way  to  the  Boston  market,  and  a 
well-conditioned  one,  which  may  weigh  from  four  to 
nearly  five  pounds,  makes  a  savory  stew  fit  for  the 
table  of  an  epicure.  In  parts  of  northern  Maine, 
New  Hampshire,  and  Vermont,  this  hare  is  abundant ; 
and  in  the  vicinity  of  Nipigon,  Ontario,  during  the 
fall  and  winter,  many  of  the  poor  things  are  killed 
in  the  night  by  the  passing  trains  of  the  Canadian 
Pacific  Railroad.  Mr.  Gr.  S.  Miller,  Jr.,  writing  of 
the  varying  hare  which  he  found  plentiful  just  north 
of  Lake  Superior,  says  that  one  was  taken  on  the  5th 
of  October  at  Peninsular  Harbor,  the  winter  pelage 
of  which  was  just  beginning  to  appear  on  the  ears 
and  buttocks ;  but  on  certain  others  taken  two  weeks 
later  the  winter  coat  was  nearly  complete. 


266     FAMILIAR  LIF3  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


Inhabiting  the  same  wood  with  the  varying  hare, 
but  far  more  active  than  he  is  in  every  motion  of  the 
body,  the  sauciest  scamp  in  the  forest  glade,  and  a 
notorious  little  villain  for  stealing  a  march  on  birds' 
nests,  the  red  squirrel,  or  chickaree  (Sciurus  hudsoni- 
cus  hudsonicus,  Sciurus  hudsonius  of  Allen),  is  per- 
haps the  most  familiar  phase  of  wild  life  in  the  forest 
or  on  the  highway.  But  some  of  his  tricks  and  man- 
ners are  not  thoroughly  well  known. 

He  is  a  perfect  nuisance  to  the  trapper,  as  he 
continually  springs   the   traps   set  for   martens   and 
minks,  and  quite  often  gets  caught  him- 
self.     But   his    hide   is   not 
worth  a  cent,  so  the  trap- 
per is  disgusted.    As  for  his 
habit  of  robbing  birds' 


The  Red  Squirrel. 


nests,    that     is    fairly 
well  known  by  every 

one  wno   liyes  m  *ne 
country  in  June.    Last 

.  . 

spring  a  pair  01  robins 
built  their  nest  close  to  my  cottage  in  a  butternut 
tree,  around  the  trunk  of  which  I  had  built  a  rustic 
arbor,  and  all  went  on  without  disturbance  until  the 
young  birds  were  hatched,  when,  late  one  afternoon,  a 
red  squirrel  appeared,  and  in  a  very  unconcerned  way 
began  to  ascend  the  tree  ostensibly  to  see  how  the 


SMALL  FOLK  WITH  LIVELY  FEET.     267 

butternuts  were  getting  on.  I  knew  very  well  what 
he  was  after,  however,  and  noticed  how  slyly  he 
sprang  to  one  of  the  lower  limbs  which  led  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  nest.  'No  sooner  had  he  done  this  than 
the  father  bird,  who  was  at  least  thirty  yards  away 
in  a  maple  tree,  made  for  him,  and  immediately  there 
was  a  great  commotion  among  the  butternut  leaves. 
In  the  midst  of  it  the  mother  bird  appeared  with  a 
hard-shelled  bug  in  her  mouth,  which  she  dropped, 
and  I  heard  it  rattle  down  the  arbor  roof.  Up  and 
down,  in  and  out  among  the  leaves  the  birds  chased 
the  little  scamp,  and  still  he  tried  to  elude  the  sharp 
bills,  but  vainly ;  it  was  perfectly  plain  that  the 
birds  had  the  best  of  it,  and  that  bunny's  agility  was 
no  match  for  such  a  terrific  winged  onslaught.  He 
fled  at  last  in  great  confusion  ;  but  the  birds  did  not 
desist,  and  in  his  frantic  attempts  to  defend  himself 
he  lost  his  hold  and  fell  from  limb  to  limb,  until  he 
landed  on  the  arbor  roof.  Before  he  could  recover 
himself  the  robins  were  at  him  again,  and  it  was  a 
running  fight  all  the  way  to  the  neighboring  pasture 
bars,  where  the  birds  gave  up  the  chase  and  returned 
to  their  tree.  It  was  amusing  directly  after  to  see 
the  male  bird  station  himself  like  a  sentinel  in  a 
maple  that  adjoined  the  butternut.  But  it  was  just 
as  well,  for  he  had  to  defend  the  nest  a  third  time 
before  the  fledglings  were  flown. 


268     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


The  red  squirrel  is  also  a  thief.     He  frequently 
has  an  encounter  with  a  chipmunk  at  the  latter's  door- 
step, and  I  have  caught  him  in 
the    act    of 

stealing  the 

, ,  . 
stores  of  his 

The  Chipmunk  scolding.  more  ^^ 

dent  cousin.     A  chipmunk  has  his  hole  just  beneath 
a  pine  tree  outside  of  my  garden  fence,  and  most  of 


travels    back 
and  the  kitch- 
(he  has  large 
full  of  prov- 
while  there 


the  time  the  little  creature 
and  forth   between   this 
en  door  with  his  cheeks 
pouches  in  them)  stuffed 
ender.     Every  once  in  a 
is  a  squabble  under  the 
pine   tree,  and   I   well 
know  what  it   means 
—the  red  squirrel  is 
there,     thieving,    per- 
haps.   He  is  a  good  deal  of 
a  bully,  and  when  it  suits  his 
fancy  he  attacks  the  hoards  of 
the  field  mouse,  which  are  care- 
fully tucked  away  under  some  de- 
caying stump,  and,  utterly  regard- 
less of  the  agitation  he  is  creating     "He  attacks  the 

hoards  of   the 

among  the  proprietors,  who  survey        field  mouse." 


SMALL  FOLK  WITH  LIVELY  FEET.     269 

his  deeds  with  squealing  disapproval,  tears  their  home 
asunder  and  eats  their  stores  before  their  eyes,  con- 
temptuously scattering  the  beechnut  shells  and  the 
half -gnawed  acorns  over  the  snow  under  their  very 
noses. 

In  the  autumn  I  have  seen  him  among  the  top- 
most branches  of  a  butternut  shaking  the  nuts  down 
and  nipping  at  the  stems  of  the  more  tenacious  ones. 
One  day  last  October  I  heard  the  continuous  thump, 
thump,  thump  of  the  dropping  nuts,  and  stepping  out 
of  my  studio  to  see  why  they  should  fall  when  there 
was  not  a  breath  of  air  stirring,  caught  him  at  his 
work ;  then  I  took  a  mean  advantage  of  his  industry, 
and  sent  the  children  out  to  gather  the  nuts.  He 
surveyed  their  actions  with  the  disapproval  of  a  much- 
abused  but  helpless  owner,  and  scolded  most  vocifer- 
ously. He  is  extraordinarily  busy  all  through  the 
months  of  September  and  October,  and  the  stores  of 
beechnuts,  butternuts,  acorns,  and  hazels  he  gathers 
would,  if  they  were  all  piled  together,  astonish  one  be- 
yond measure.  Why,  when  he  gathers  so  much  for 
himself,  he  must  needs  steal  from  his  neighbors,  it  is 
difficult  to  understand.  He  has  the  keenest  sense  of 
the  exact  locality  of  a  nut,  and  I  am  certain  that  he 
is  led  to  attack  the  nest  of  a  mouse  more  by  his 
nostrils  than  his  eyes.  The  keenness  of  his  scent  is 
proved  by  a  bit  of  calculation  which  he  did  one  win- 


270      FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


ter  in  my  closed-up  cottage.  A  bushel  basket  filled 
with  butternuts  was  placed  close  against  the  surbase 
in  one  of  the  rooms  adjoining  the  attic.  There  was 
no  possible  way  for  the  squirrel  either  to  enter  or  see 
inside  the  room ;  yet  he  smelled  those  nuts,  and  en- 
tering the  attic,  gnawed  his  way  through  the  parti- 
tion, and  entered  the  room  through  the  surbase  ex- 
actly at  a  point  opposite  the  center  of  the  basket ! 

His  food  in  winter,  though,  is  not  wholly  confined 
to  nuts ;   he  eats  the  buds  of  the  maple,  oak,  and 

birch,  and  any  seeds  or 
dried  berries  which  he 
can  find.    He  attacks  the 
.farmer's  corn  barn,  and, 
unless    the    corner   posts 
are    well    protected    with 
slippery  tin,  effects  an  en- 
trance  and   carries   off  the 
grain.     A  careful  examina- 
tion  of  the    kernel    shows 

that  he  eats  the  germ  and  leaves  the  rest.  In  the 
evergreen  forest  he  will  deftly  handle  a  pine  cone, 
and  inverting  it  cut  away  scale  after  scale  and  devour 
the  seeds  hidden  between ;  in  the  same  manner  he 
demolishes  a  spruce  cone.  He  does  not  hibernate, 
but  keeps  thus  busy  all  winter  long. 

He  is. an  excellent  swimmer,  and  crosses  the  pond 


"  He  will  deftly  handle  a  cone." 


SMALL  FOLK  WITH  LIVELY  FEET.    271 

in  midsummer  when  it  is  too  troublesome  to  go 
around.  But  I  notice  that  he  avoids  the  colder  water 
of  the  river.  The  forest  he  claims  for  his  own,  and 
any  one  who  dares  to  disturb  its  quiet  and  seclusion 
he  hails  with  a  storm  of  chattering,  whistling  invec- 
tive, the  meaning  of  which  may  be  fairly  summed  up 
into  two  words — "  Get  out ! "  His  squeaky  voice,  not 
very  different  in  tone  and  quality 


"  The  wrathful  creature  jerks  fearfully." 

from  the  raspings  of  an  old  violin  in  the  hands  of 
an  amateur,  strikes  harshly  upon  the  ear.  All  the 
while  the  body  of  the  wrathful  creature  jerks  fear- 
fully from  head  to  tail ! 

The  nest  of  the  red  squirrel  is  usually  in  the  hole 
of  a  tree ;  sometimes,  farther  South,  it  is  constructed 
of  soft,  shreddy  bark,  and  hidden  in  the  thick  upper 
branches  of  the  spruce  or  the  red  cedar ;  in  this  case 
it  is  spherical,  and  the  opening  is  near  the  bottom. 
The  female  bears  from  four  to  six  young  about  the 
first  of  April.  She  has  few  enemies  to  fear,  the 
owl  and  the  hawk  being  the  only  ones  of  serious  con- 
sequence. 


272     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOEEST. 

The  red  squirrel  is  reddish  brown  throughout  the 
summer ;  but  twice  in  the  year  he  sheds  his  hair,  and 
during  the  winter  his  aspect  is  much  duller,  and  the 
red  is  not  nearly  so  pronounced.  Beneath  he  is  white, 
and  there  is  a  dark  line  where  this  white  meets  the 
red  on  the  sides.  In  winter  the  white  is  toned  with 
brown  gray,  and  the  dark  dividing  line  disappears. 

The  chipmunk  (Tamias  listerii,  formerly  Tamias 
striatus)  is  the  red  squirrel's  cousin ;  but  they  have 
little  to  do  with  each  other,  and 
avoid   all    unnecessary    meetings. 
A  Western   species  of 
this  genus,  Tamias  neg- 
lectusf  which  is  com- 
mon in  northern  Mich- 

The  Chipmunk. 

igan,    "Wisconsin,     and 

Minnesota,  is  distinguished  by  the  four  stripes  on 
its  back  instead  of  the  three  which  characterize  the 
more  Eastern  species  striatus.  The  stripes,  except 
the  black,  dorsal  one,  are  white  in  the  middle  and 
bordered  on  either  side  with  black.  This  Western 
chipmunk  only  hibernates  when  his  food  supply  is 
cut  off  by  the  snow ;  he  will  remain  out  when  the 
temperature  is  as  low  as  15°.  North  Bay,  Lake 
Nipissing,  Canada,  is  the  most  easterly  point  where 
he  has  been  found. 

*  Formerly  Tamias  quadrivitatus. 


SMALL  FOLK  WITH  LIVELY  FEET.     273 

The  Eastern  chipmunk  takes  to  his  winter  bed  in 
the  ground  as  soon  as  the  cold  and  frosty  nights  of 
October  come,  and  reappears  again  in  March  or 
April.  He  is  not  a  profound  sleeper,  however,  and 
often  wakes  up  to  "eat  a  bit."  His  abundant  store 
of  nuts,*  seeds,  corn,  and  buckwheat  is  tucked  away 
underground  where  the  red  squirrel  can  not  get  at  it, 
and  he  passes  the  winter  in  peace  and  plenty,  only 
popping  his  nose  above  ground  when  the  weather  is 
warm,  to  make  sure  that  the  world  still  "  wags  on." 

The  tail  of  this  little  fellow  is  insignificant,  his 
body  is  much  less  athletic  in  its  lines  than  that  of  the 
red  squirrel,  and  in  every  way  he  shows  himself  not  a 
climber.  If  he  is  scared  in  the  forest,  and  takes  ref- 
uge in  a  maple,  he  clings  helplessly  to  the  bark  some- 
where about  fifteen  feet  above  the  ground,  and  waits 
without  a  motion  for  the  danger  to  pass,  descending 
again  spirally. 

He  is  not  very  timid,  but  I  do  not  know  that  he  is 
very  easily  domesticated.  He  is  constantly  about  in 
my  garden  while  I  am  at  work  there ;  he  feeds  on  the 
sunflower  seeds  in  the  autumn  while  I  stand  within 
five  feet  of  him,  and  the  children  frequently  feed  him 
with  crusts  of  bread  and  cake  at  a  respectful  but 

*  It  is  a  matter  of  some  surprise  to  me  that  he  cares  for  the 
clumsy  big  butternut ;  but  he  often  tackles  one,  and  even  carries 
it  to  his  hole.    As  a  rule,  however,  he  prefers  seeds  to  nuts. 
19 


274     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


of   a   few  / 
sions   to 


gate,  he 
pouches 


moderate  distance.  He  also  hangs  around  the  kitchen 
way,  and  not  infrequently  enters  the  door  in  search 
fallen  crumbs.  On  all  his  excur- 
his  burrow,  not  far  from  the  front 
appears  with  his  cheek 
so  stuffed  out  that  his 
eyes  are  half  closed, 
but  on  his  return  his 
physiognomy  has  re- 
sumed its  normal  propor- 
tions. 

He  is  quite  the  opposite  of 
the  red  squirrel  in   one  re- 
spect— he  is  quiet.     Rarely  he  raises  his  voice  above 
a  scolding  murmur,  which  sounds  like  chip-chip-ur- 
r.r 


'  He  feeds  on  the  sunflower 
seeds." 


The  nest  of  the  chip- 
munk is  in  a  hollow 
chamber  about  as  large  as  a 
cocoanut  at  the  end  of  a  tunnel 
about  two  feet  long,  and  six- 
teen inches  below  the  surface 
of  the  ground.      The  female 
bears  from  four  to  six  young 
about  the  latter  part  of  April. 

One  of  the  prettiest  of  our  squirrels  is  the  little, 
soft-eyed,  velvet-coated  flying  squirrel  (Sciuropterus 


The  children  frequently  feed 
him  with  crusts  of  bread.'1 


CHIPMUNK. 
TAMIAS   LISTERII. 

"He  is  the  red  squirrel's 


SMALL  FOLK  WITH  LIVELY  FEET. 


2T5 


volans  volans,  Sciuropterus  volucella,  Geoffrey) ; 
but  he  is  out  only  after  sunset,  and  does  not  often 
appear  on  the  highway.  His  ^^}ij^  color  is  a 
brownish  gray,  and  his  skin  is  ^^Sm^!.i  so  loose- 
ly adjusted  to  his  body  that  he 
can  spread  it  out  in  a  wide  ex- 
panse and  slide  through  the 
air  from  tree  to  tree  on 
a  flying  leap  of  fully 
fifty  feet.  It  is  said 
that  on  extra  occasions 
he  can  stretch  this  dis- 
tance tO  One  hundred  The  Flying  Squirrel. 

and  fifty  feet ;  but  I  am  confident  of  the  fact  that 

this  is  merely  a  fall,  after  the  fashion  of  a  parachute. 

Even  the  red  squirrel  can  fall  a  matter  of  thirty  feet 

with  no  inconvenience  to  his  anat- 


A  flying  leap. 

omy,  and  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  a  flying  squirrel 
can  sail  a  hundred  feet  or  so  through  the  air  with  all 
the  semblance  of  a  long  leap,  but  in  reality  the  dis- 
tance covered  laterally  is  not  so  very  great.  This 


276     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


little  creature  is  common  all  over  the  country,  from 
the  East  to  the  West,  as  far  as  the  plains.  I  have 
often  seen  him  in  Holderness,  N.  PI.,  and  he  is  com- 
mon at  Profile  Lake,  Franconia  Notch,  N.  H. 

The  nest  of  the  flying  squirrel  is  in  a  hole  in  a 
tree.  The  female  bears  from  four  to  six  young 
about  the  first  of  April  or  later.  When  captured 
and  tamed  the  little  ones  make  most  charming  pets. 
Next  to  the  woodchuck,  the  flying  squirrel 
is  one  of  the  most  profound 
sleepers  of  all  hibernating 
animals.  He  retires  to 
his  nest  early  in  Novem- 
ber, and  does  not  reap- 
pear until  the  latter  part  of 
March. 

The  big  relative  of  the 
red  squirrel — an  animal 
made  of  coarser  clay- 
is  the  Northern  gray 
squirrel  (Sciurus  carolinensis  leucotis).  This  active 
fellow,  familiar  in  many  of  the  city  parks,  hibernates 
only  when  the  weather  is  extremely  cold,  and  then 
for  no  great  length  of  time.  So  long  as  the  mercury 
will  stand  above  16°  the  gray  squirrel  will  venture  out 
in  the  cold ;  but  when  it  drops  below  that,  and  the 
chances  of  food  on  the  snow -covered  ground  are 


The  Gray  Squirrel. 


SMALL    FOLK   WITH   LIVELY  FEET.  277 

scarce,  he  seeks  the  warmth  and  seclusion  of  his 
nest  in  the  hollow  of  a  tree,  and  stays  there  until 
the  weather  moderates.  He  is  undoubtedly  the  most 
easily  tamed  of  all  our  squirrels,  and  it  takes  only  a 
small  amount  of  patient  waiting  and  quiet  behavior 
to  gain  his  confidence  in  the  wild  wood.  A  pocket- 
ful of  nuts  is  one  of  the  surest  means 
of  establishing  an  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  him ;  and  if  one  is  careful 
not  to  move  suddenly  and  noisily,  he 

Music! 

will  approach  and  take  a  nut  irom  the 
hand.     He  is  also  susceptible  to  the  charms  of  music, 
which  may  be  amply  proved   by  carrying   a   small 
music-box  in  the  pocket  for  his  especial 
entertainment. 

The  nest  of  the  gray  squirrel  is  usually 
built  in   the   crotch 
of  a  tree  or  in  the 
hollow  of   a   part- 
ly   decayed    limb. 
The  female   bears 
_      from  three  to  five 

The  Black  Squirrel.    '  ^^S^-       ,     ,    ,         ,.,,, 

helpless  little  ones, 
which  are  at  first  quite  blind  and  hairless ;  they  re- 
main with  the  mother  two  months.  Sometimes,  far- 
ther South,  the  female  will  raise  two  litters  in  a  year. 
The  black  squirrel  is  not  a  different  species ;  his 


278     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 

darker  fur  is  simply  a  phase  or  variation  of  the  ani- 
mal's more  common  condition  in  life  —  this  dark 
color,  in  fact,  is  simply  a  case  of  melanism. 

It  is  very  important  in  the  study  of  wild  life  that 
we  should  recognize  the  exact  relationship  of  the  ani- 
mals, just  as  it  is  of  like  importance  that  we  should 
know  the  affinities  of  plants.  Without  this  knowl- 
edge one  studies  Nature  at  an  immense  disadvantage. 
It  is  a  good  beginning,  for  instance,  to  learn  that  we 
have  really  but  two  species  of  the  fox  in  this  country, 
and  that  there  is  an  affinity  between  the  little  sundew 
plant  and  the  larger  pitcher  plant.  At  present,  even 
the  botanists  do  not  fully  recognize  the  relationship 
between  these  two  insect-catching  characters  of  the 
vegetable  world ;  but  they  will  surely  do  so  some 
time  in  the  future. 

As  for  the  animal  world,  naturalists  have  not  yet 
done  with  it,  or  at  least  with  that  part  of  it  which  is 
on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  Our  black  squirrel  and 
gray  squirrel  are  one  species  ;  our  weasels  are  none  of 
them  the  ermine ;  our  black  bear  and  cinnamon  bear 
are  two  of  a  kind —  Ursus  americanus — and  our 
Northern  and  Southern  green  snakes  are  unrelated 
excepting  in  color. 

To  tell  the  truth,  naturalists  are  still  busily  "  sort- 
ing things  out,"  and  several  of  them  say  that  they 
have  not  yet  nearly  finished ;  but  I  have  given  the 


SMALL  FOLK  WITH  LIVELY  FEET.  279 

latest  facts  as  I  found  them,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped 


278     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST, 
darker  fur  is  simply  a  phase  or  variation  of  the  ani- 


SMALL  FOLK  WITH  LIVELY  FEET.     279 

latest  facts  as  I  found  them,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped 
that  some  of  the  last  naines  to  come  in  will  not  leave 
us  before  this  book  becomes  ancient  history !  But 
then — T&mpv.&  est  omnibus  rebus. 


INDEX. 


Acer  rubrum,  15. 

Acris  gryllus,  7,  11,  24. 

Acris  gryllus  crepitans,  8. 

Acris  gryllus  gryllus,  8. 

Adder,  Blowing,  59,  79. 

Adder,  Deaf,  79. 

Adder,  Spotted,  70. 

Adder,  Water,  77. 

Adirondack  Mountains,  N.  Y.,  49,  59, 

182. 
Adirondack  Wilderness   or  Woods, 

102.118,124,149,155,183,231. 
Alleghany  Mountains,  55,  74. 
Amblystoma  punctatum,  39. 
Amblystoma  tigrinum,  40. 
Amphiuma  means,  50. 
Ancistrodon  contortrix,  68. 
Antlers.  Deer,  237. 
Arbor  vitse,  232. 
Arctomys  monax,  245. 
Arctostaphylos  Uva-Ursi,  186. 
Atlantic  City,  N.  J.,  41. 
Ausable  River,  124. 

Badger,  154. 

Baltimore  oriole,  84. 

Barney  Butts's,  Cairo,  N.  Y.,  184. 

Bartlett's,  Adirondacks,  231. 

Bascanium  constrictor,  73. 

Bay  field,  Mo.,  155. 

Bearberry,  186. 

Bear,  Black,  180. 

Bear,  Cinnamon,  187,  278. 

Bittern,  96. 

Black  cat,  116. 


Black  Mountain,  Lake  George,  191. 
Black  Mountains,  N.  C.,  54. 
Bonasa  umbellus,  106. 
Botaurus  lentiginosus,  96. 
Bubo  virginianus,  100. 
Bufo  americanus,  18. 
Bullfrog.  13,  23,  29. 
Bunchberry,  234. 

Cambarus,  156. 

Campton,  N.  H.,  14,  54,  83. 

Cants  lupus,  225. 

Carcajou,  115. 

Cariacus  virginianus,  229. 

Carphophiops  amcenus,  68. 

Carphophiops  vermis,  69. 

Carpodacus  purpureus,  6. 

Catskill  Mountains,  N.  Y.,  44,  46,  49, 

59,  182. 

Chickadee,  95. 
Chickaree,  251,  266. 
Chiogenes  serpi/lli  folia,  110. 
Chipmunk,  204,  251,  268,  272. 
Chorophilus  triseriatus,  10. 
Clonophis  kirtlandi,  77. 
Coccyzus  erythrophthalmus,  05. 
Colaptes  auratus,  opposite  page  87. 
Coluber  obsoletus  obsoletus,  72. 
Coluber  vulpinus,  72. 
Conocephalus  ensiger,  67. 
Contopus  virens,  94. 
Crayfish,  156. 
Crotalus  horridus,  66. 
Crow,  85. 

Cryptobranchus  ciUegheinensis,  38. 
281 


282     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND   FOREST. 


Cuckoo,  Black-billed,  85. 
Cyclophis  cestivus,  72. 
Cyclophis  vernalis,  71. 

Deer,  Virginia,  228. 
Desmognathus  fusca,  53. 
Desmognathus  nigra,  55. 
Desmognathus  ochrophcea,  54. 
Diadophis  punctatus,  71. 

Erethizon  dorsatus,  254. 
Eutoenia  radix,  74. 
Eutcenia  saurita,  74. 
Eutcenia  sirtalis  dorsalis,  76. 
Eutcenia  sirtalis  sirtalis,  75. 

Felis  concolor,  242. 

Fiber  zibethicus,  opposite  page  2. 

Field  mouse,  204,  268. 

Fisher,  116,  195. 

Flycatcher,  Crested,  78. 

Fourth  Lake,  Adirondacks,  189. 

Fox,  Black,  or  Silver,  or  Silver  Gray, 

224,  226. 

Fox,  Cross,  224,  227. 
Fox,  English,  216. 
Fox,  Gray,  223. 
Fox,  Red,  195,  204,  213. 
Fox,  Western,  224. 
Frog,  Green,  23,  27. 
Frog,  Leopard,  23. 
Frog,  Northern,  26. 
Frog,  Savannah  cricket,  2,  7. 
Frog,  Three-striped,  11. 
Frog,  Wood,  23,  26,  33. 

Gaultheria  procumbens,  110, 186,  233. 
Grasshopper,  Cone-headed,  67. 
Green  Mountains,  182. 
Gulo  luscus,  113. 

Hare,  American  Varying,  263. 
Harvard    Botanical   Garden,    Cam- 
bridge, 84. 
Hellbender,  38. 
Hepatica  triloba,  1. 
Heterodon  platyrhinus,  79. 
Heterodon  simus,  79. 


Holderness,  N.  H.,  276. 
Hoosac  Hills,  Mass.,  112. 
Hyla  andersonii,  13. 
Hyla,  Anderson's,  29. 
Hyla  picker ingii.  2,  11,  28. 
Hyla,  Pickering's,  2,  49. 
Hyla  versicolor,  5,  8,  14. 

Icterus  galbula,  84. 

Lake  Cham  plain,  44,  59,  76. 

Lake  George,  59,  191. 

Lake  Mahopac,  N.  Y.,  75. 

Lake  Nipissing,  Canada,  272. 

Lake  Superior,  118,  125,  155,  265. 

Lake  Umbagog,  125,  155. 

Lakewood,  N.  J.,  12. 

Lepus  americanus  virginianus,  263. 

Lepus  sylvaticus,  259. 

Lepus  transition-alls,  259. 

Ley  den,  N.  Y.,  183. 

Liopeltis  vernalis,  71. 

Livermore  Falls,  N.  H.,  149. 

Liverwort,  1. 

Loon,  101. 

Lutra  canadensis,  155. 

Lutra  hudsonica,  opposite  page  157. 

Lycopodium  clavatum,  232. 

Lycopodium  complanatum,  233. 

Lycopodium  obscurum,  232. 

Manx  cat,  72,  261. 
Maple  swamp,  15. 
Marmot,  245. 
Marten,  Pennant's,  116. 
Marten,  Pine,  121. 
May's  Lake,  Adirondacks,  157. 
Mephitis  mephitica,  153,  161. 
Merganser  americanus,  105. 
Merganser  serrator,  104. 
\ferula  migratoria,  81. 
Mink,  147. 

Mitchella  repens,  110. 
lollie  Cottontail,  259. 
lount  Chocorua,  "White  Mountains, 
183. 

Mount  Tom,  Mass. ,  73. 
luskrat,  2,  153. 
lustela  americana,  116,  121. 


INDEX. 


283 


Must ela  pennant i,  116. 
Myiarchus  crinitus,  78. 
Natrix  fasciata  sipedon,  77. 
Matrix  leberis,  78. 
Necturus  maculatus,  37. 
Necturus,  Spotted,  37. 
Nerodia  sipedon,  77. 
New  Haven,  Conn.,  8. 
Nipigon,  Ontario,  124,  265. 
Norway,  Me.,  14. 

Odocoileus     virginianus,     opposite 


Ophibolus  doliatus  triangulus,  70. 

Ophibolus  getulus  getulus,  69. 

Otter,  155. 

Owl,  Great  horned,  99,  260. 

Owl,  Screech,  101. 

Owl,  Snowy,  260. 

Panther,  242. 

Partridge,  106. 

Partridge  berry,  110. 

Paul  Smith's,  Adirondacks,  231. 

Pecan,  116. 

Peeper,  Spring,  2. 

Pemigewasset  River  Valley,  N.  H., 

104,  132,  188,  219. 
Peninsular  Harbor,  265. 
Pickerel  weed,  233. 
Pine  Hill,  N  Y.,  44. 
Pityophis  melanoleucus,  73. 
Plethodon  cinereus,  42. 
Plethodon  cinereus  erythronotus,  43. 
Plethodon  glutinosus,  44. 
Porcupine,  117,  204,  254. 
Portland,  Me.,  14. 
Procyon  lotor,  202. 
Profile  Lake,  Franconia  Notch,  N.  H., 

276. 

Purple  finch,  6. 
Putorius  cicognani,  128. 
Putorius  erminea,  129,  136. 
Putorius  nigripes,  139. 
Putorius  noveboracensis,  129,  136. 
Putorius  rixosus.  130. 
Putorius  visor,  147. 
Putorius  vulgaris,  128. 


Rabbit,  Gray,  246,  259. 

Raccoon,  119,  202. 

Rana  catesbiana,  13,  23,  29. 

Rana  clamata,  23,  27. 

Rana  halecina,  23,  24. 

Rana  palustris,  23,  25. 

Rana  septentrionalis,  23,  26. 

Rana  sylvatica,  23,  25,  33. 

Rana  virescens,  23,  24. 

Rana  virescens  virescens,  23. 

Raquette  Lake,  Adirondacks,  112. 

Rattlesnake,  Northern,  58,  66,  74,  241. 

Red  Rock,  New  Brunswick,  Canada, 

190. 

Redstart,  93. 
Regina  leberis,  78. 
Robin,  81. 
Rooster's  crow.  86. 

Sable.  American,  121. 
Salamander,  Black.  55. 
Salamander,  Ocher-colored,  54. 
Salamander,  Red,  47. 
Salamander,  Red-backed,  43. 
Salamander,  Sticky,  44. 
Salamander,  Tiger-spotted,  40. 
Salamander,  Two-striped,  45. 
Salamander,  Violet,  39. 
Sandwich  Dome,  White  Mountains, 

188. 

Sapsucker.  204. 

Sciuropterus  volans  volans,  275. 
Sciuropterus  volucella,  275. 
Sciurus  carolinensis  leucotis,  276. 
Sciurus  hudsonius,  266. 
Sciurus  hudsonicus  hudsonicus,  266. 
Setophaga  ruticilla,  93. 
Seventh  Lake,  Adirondacks,  149. 
Sheldrake,  Red-breasted,  104. 
Skunk,  153,  161. 
Skunk  perfume,  173. 
Slide  Mountain,  Catskills,  197. 
Snake,  Black,  73. 
Snake,  Brown,  76. 
Snake,  Bull,  73. 
Snake,  Chain,  69. 
Snake,  Copperhead,  58,  68. 
Snake,  Fox,  72. 


284:     FAMILIAR  LIFE  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST. 


Snake,  Garter,  75. 

Snake,  Grass,  71. 

Snake,  Green,  59,  71. 

Snake,  Ground,  68. 

Snake,  Hognose,  79. 

Snake,  House,  70. 

Snake,  King,  70. 

Snake,  KirtlandX  77. 

Snake,  Milk,  70. 

Snake,  Mountain  black,  72. 

Snake,  Pilot,  72. 

Snake,  Pine,  73. 

Snake,  Queen,  78. 

Snake,  Racer,  59,  73. 

Snake,  Rattle-,  58,  66,  74. 

Snake,  Red  bellied,  76. 

Snake,  Ribbon,  74. 

Snake,  Ring- necked,  71. 

Snake,  Southern  green,  72. 

Snake,  Spotted,  76. 

Snake,  Striped,  74. 

Snake,  Water,  59,  77. 

Snake,  Western  garter,  74. 

Snake,  Worm,  69. 

Snowberry,  Creeping,  110,  188. 

Spelerpes  bilineatus,  45. 

Spelerpes  rubra,  47. 

Squara  Lake,  46. 

Squirrel,  Black,  277. 

Squirrel,  Flying,  251,  274. 

Squirrel,  Ground,  134. 

Squirrel,  Northern  gray,  251,  276. 

Squirrel,  Red,  208,  266. 

Stake-driver,  96. 

Stoat,  136. 

Storeria  dekayi,  76. 

Storeria  occipitomaculata,  76. 

Tamias  listerii,  272. 
Tamias  neglect  us,  272. 
Tamias  quadrivitatus,  272. 
Tamias  striatus,  272. 
Taxidea  americana,  154. 


Thrush,  Hermit,  88. 

Thuja  occidentalis,  232. 

Toad,  Common,  18. 

Toad,  Tree,  5,  8,  14. 

Trenton,  N.  J.,  219. 

Tropidoclonium  kirtlandi,  77. 

Trout  Lake,  St.  Lawrence  County, 
N.  Y.,  102. 

Turdus  aonalaschkcK  pallasii,  88. 

Turdus  fuscescens,  91. 

Turtle.  204. 

Twin  Mountain  House,  White  Moun- 
tains, 183. 

Urinator  imber,  101. 

Urocyon  cinereo-argenteus,  223. 

Ursus  americanus,  180. 

Veery,  91. 

Vulpes  argentatus,  224. 
Vulpes  decussatus,  224. 
Vulpes  macrurus,  224. 
Vulpes  pennsylvanicus,  213. 
Vulpes  vulpes,  216. 

Waterville,  N.  H.,  187. 

Weasel,  Larger,  129,  136. 

Weasel,  Little  brown,  128,  204. 

Wenusk,  245. 

White  Mountains,  N.  H.,  47,  59,  182, 

190,  235. 

Wintergreen,  110,  186,  233. 
Wolf,  225. 
Wolverene,  113. 
Woodchuck,  204,  245. 
Woodchuck's  day,  250. 
Woodpecker,  Golden-winged,  87. 
Wood  pewee,  94. 

Yellow-hammer,  87. 
Yellowstone  Park,  192. 

Zoological  Garden,  Cincinnati,  193. 


THE  END. 


F 


D.   APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

AM  I  LIAR  FLOWERS  OF  FIELD  AND 
GARDEN.  By  F.  SCHUYLER  MATHEWS.  Illustrated  with 
200  Drawings  by  the  Author,  and  containing  an  elaborate  Index 
showing  at  a  glance  the  botanical  and  popular  names,  family, 
color,  locality,  environment,  and  time  of  bloom  of  several  hun- 
dred flowers.  I2mo.  Library  Edition,  cloth,  $1.75  ;  Pocket 
Edition,  flexible  covers,  $2.25. 

In  this  convenient  and  useful  volume  the  flowers  which  one  finds  in  the  fields  are 
identified,  illustrated,  and  described  in  familiar  language.  Their  connection  with  gar- 
den flowers  is  made  clear.  Particular  attention  is  drawn  to  the  beautiful  ones  which 
have  come  under  cultivation,  and,  as  the  title  indicates,  the  book  furnishes  a  ready 
guide  to  a  knowledge  of  wild  and  cultivated  flowers  alike. 

"  I  have  examined  Mr.  Mathews's  little  book  upon  '  Familiar  Flowers  of  Field  and 
Garden,'  and  1  have  pleasure  in  commending  the  accuracy  and  beauty  of  the  drawings 
and  the  freshness  of  the  text.  We  have  lo.ig  needed  some  botany  from  the  hand  of  an 
artist,  who  sees  form  and  color  without  the  formality  of  the  scientist.  The  book  deserves 
a  reputation."—/,.  H.  Bailey,  Professor  of  Horticulture,  Cornell  University. 

"  I  am  much  pleased  with  your  'Familiar  Flowers  of  Field  and  Garden.'  It  is  a 
useful  and  handsomely  prepared  handbook,  and  the  elaborate  index  is  an  especially 
valuable  part  of  it.  Taken  in  connection  with  the  many  careful  drawings,  it  would 
seem  as  though  your  little  volume  thoroughly  covers  its  subject." — Louis  Prang. 

"  The  author  describes  in  a  most  interesting  and  charming  manner  many  familiar 
wild  and  cultivated  plants,  enlivening  his  remarks  by  crisp  epigrams,  and  rendering 
identification  of  the  subjects  described  simple  by  means  of  some  two  hundred  draw- 
ings from  Nature,  made  by  his  own  pen.  .  .  .  The  book  will  do  much  to  more  fully 
acquaint  the  reader  with  those  plants  of  field  and  garden  treated  upon  with  which  he 
may  be  but  partly  familiar,  and  go  a  long  way  toward  correcting  many  popular 
errors  existing  in  the  matter  of  colors  of  their  flowers,  a  subject  to  which  Mr.  Mathews 
has  devoted  much  attention,  and  on  which  he  is  now  a  recognized  authority  in  the 
trade."— New  York  Florists'  Exchange. 

"A  book  of  much  value  and  interest,  admirably  arranged  for  the  student  and  the 
lover  of  flowers.  .  .  .  The  text  is  full  of  compact  information,  well  selected  and  interest- 
ingly presented.  ...  It  seems  to  us  to  be  a  most  attractive  handbook  of  its  kind." — 
New  York  Sun. 

"A  delightful  book  and  very  useful.  Its  language  is  plain  and  familiar,  and  the 
illustrations  are  dainty  works  of  art.  It  is  just  the  book  for  those  who  want  to  be 
familiar  with  the  well-known  flowers,  those  that  grow  in  the  cultivated  gardens  as  well 
as  those  that  blossom  in  the  fields." — Newark  Daily  Advertiser. 

"Seasonable  and  valuable.  The  young  botanist  and  the  lover  of  flowers,  who  have 
only  studied  from  Nature,  will  be  greatly  aided  by  this  work." — Pittsburg  Post. 

"  Charmingly  written,  and  to  any  one  who  loves  the  flowers— and  who  does  not  ?— 
will  prove  no  less  fascinating  than  instructive.  It  will  open  up  in  the  garden  and  the 
fields  a  new  world  full  of  curiosity  and  delight,  and  invest  them  with  a  new  interest  in 
his  sight."—  Christian  Work. 

"  One  need  not  be  deeply  read  in  floral  lore  to  be  interested  in  what  Mr.  Mathews 
has  written,  and  the  more  proficient  one  is  therein  the  greater  his  satisfaction  is  likely 
to  be." — New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

"  Mr.  F.  Schnyler  Mathews's  careful  description  and  graceful  drawings  of  our 
'  Familiar  Flowers  of  Field  and  Garden  '  are  fitted  to  make  them  familiar  even  to  those 
who  have  not  before  made  their  acquaintance." — New  York  Evening  Post. 


New  York  :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,   72  Fifth  Avenue. 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

AM  I  LIAR    TREES    AND    THEIR    LEAVES. 

*-  By  F.  SCHUYLER  MATHEWS,  author  of  "Familiar  Flowers  of 
Field  and  Garden,"  "  The  Beautiful  Flower  Garden,"  etc.  Il- 
lustrated with  over  200  Drawings  from  Nature  by  the  Author 
I2mo.  Cloth,  $1.75. 

"It  is  not  often  that  we  find  a  book  which  deserves  such  unreserved  commendation 
It  is  commendable  for  several  reasons :  it  is  a  book  that  has  been  needed  for  a  long 
time,  it  is  written  in  a  popular  and  attractive  style,  it  is  accurately  and  profusely  illus- 
trated, and  it  is  by  an  authority  on  the  subject  ot  which  it  treats." — Public  Opinion. 

"  Most  readers  of  the  book  will  find  a  world  of  information  they  never  dreamed  of 
about  leaves  that  have  long  been  familiar  with  them.  The  study  will  open  to  them 
new  sources  of  pleasure  in  every  tiee  around  their  houses,  and  prove  interesting  as  well 
as  instructive." — San  Francisco  Call. 

"A  revelation  of  the  sweets  and  joys  of  natural  things  that  we  are  too  apt  to  pass 
by  with  but  little  or  no  thought.  The  book  is  somewhat  more  than  an  ordinary  botan- 
ical treatise  on  leaves  and  trees.  It  is  a  heart-to  heart  talk  with  Nature,  a  true  appre- 
ciation of  the  beauty  and  the  real  usefulness  of  leaves  and  trees." — Boston  Courier. 

"Has  about  it  a  simplicity  and  a  directness  of  purpose  that  appeal  at  once  to  every 
lover  of  Nature." — New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

"  Mr.  Mathews's  book  is  just  what  is  needed  to  open  our  eyes.  His  text  is  charm- 
ing, and  displays  a  loving  and  intimate  acquaintance  with  tree  life,  while  the  drawings 
of  foliage  are  beautifully  executed.  We  commend  the  volume  as  a  welcome  companion 
in  country  walks."—  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

"  The  book  is  one  to  read,  and  then  to  keep  at  hand  for  continual  reference." — 
Chicago  Dial. 

"  The  unscientific  lover  of  Nature  will  find  this  book  a  source  of  enjoyment  as  well 
as  of  instruction,  and  it  will  be  a  valuable  introduction  to  the  more  scientific  study  of 
the  subject." — Cleveland  Plain  Dealer. 

"  This  book  will  be  found  most  satisfactory.  It  is  a  book  which  is  needed,  written 
by  one  who  knows  trees  as  he  knows  people." — Minneapolis  Journal. 

"  A  book  of  large  value  to  the  student.  The  reader  gathers  a  wide  and  valuable 
knowledge  which  will  awaken  new  interest  in  every  tramp  through  the  forest." — Chi- 
cag)  Inter-Ocean. 

"  A  most  admirable  volume  in  many  ways.  It  meets  a  distinct  and  widely  felt 
want;  the  work  is  excellently  done  ;  its  appearance  is  very  timely.  .  .  .  Written  in  a 
clear  and  simple  style,  and  requires  no  previous  technical  knowledge  of  botany  to  under- 
stand it."—  Baltimore  News. 

"  This  very  valuable  book  will  be  prized  by  all  who  love  Nature."—  The  Churchman, 

"Of  the  many  Nature  books  that  are  constantly  inviting  the  reader  to  leave  pave- 
ment and  wander  in  country  bypaths,  this  one,  with  its  scientific  foundation,  and  its 
simplicity  and  clearness  of  style,  is  among  the  most  alluring." — St.  Paul  Pioneer-Press. 


New  York :   D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


D.   APPLETON   AND  COMPANY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


F 


AM  I  LIAR  FEATURES  OF  THE  ROAD- 
SIDE. By  F.  SCHUYLER  MATHEWS,  author  of  "  Familiar 
Flowers  of  Field  and  Garden,"  "Familiar  Trees  and  their 
Leaves,"  etc.  With  130  Illustrations  by  the  Author.  I2mo. 
Cloth,  $1.75. 

"  A  faithful  guide-book  for  our  roadsides.  .  .  .  Can  be  unhesitatingly  commended 
for  summer  strolls." — New  York  Evening  Post, 

"  One  who  rides,  drives,  or  walks  into  the  country,  particularly  in  these  days  of 
bicycling,  will  find  this  book  an  invaluable  and  incessant  source  of  elevating  amuse- 
ment."— Philadelphia  Press. 

"  Deserves  to  be  the  guide-book  par  excellence  of  the  familiar  wayside.  .  .  .  His 
book,  taken  as  a  whole,  is  a  treasure."—  New  York  Times. 

"  An  admirable  book  for  Nature  lovers  to  take  with  them  to  the  country,  for  it 
exqi 


reveals  in  a  delightful  way  many  mysteries  of  insect  and  floral  life,  and  comes  as  an 
juisite  refreshment  and  welcome  instructor." — Boston  Times. 


everyday  life  with  which  they  are  often  unacquainted,  because  they  have  never  stopped 
to  give  them  attention." — Jersey  City  Evening  'Journal. 


"  A  delightful  study  of  Nature  in  her  manifold  forms.  .  .  .  Take  this  trip  on  the  road 
with  Mr.  Mathews,  for  he  is  a  very  entertaining  lecturer,  and  has  personal  acquaint- 
ance with  buds  and  flowers." — Minneapolis  Journal. 

"  The  book  is  certainly  a  charming  one  for  all  lowers  of  Nature,  and  can  but  inspire 
a  love  of  the  waysides  for  any  into  whose  hands  it  shall  come." — Boston  Saturday 
Evening  Gazette. 

It  is  such  a  book  as  will  direct  the  attention  of  its  readers  to  those  features  of 
yday  life  with  which  they  are  often  unacquainte 
to  give  them  attention."  — Jersey  City  Evening  Jo 

"A  beautiful  book,  and  as  interesting  and  instructive  as  it  is  beautiful.  .  .  .  The 
lessons  of  the  book  are  enforced  so  pleasingly  as  to  make  every  page  fascinating." — 
Chicago  Inter- Ocean. 

"  A  book  to  carry  through  one's  summer  wanderings,  to  quicken  one's  appreciation 
of  common  beauties."-—  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

"  A  book  that  ought  to  be  in  the  satchel  of  every  one  who  takes  a  vacation ;  and 
even  stay-at-homes  will  find  a  new  interest  in  their  surroundings  through  its  perusal." 
— Chicago  Advance. 

"A  thoroughly  charming  book  alike  for  the  amateur  naturalist  and  the  lover  of  out- 
door life." — Boston  Beacon. 

"It  is  impossible  to  express  the  fascination  of  such  a  book  as  this." — New  York 
Commercial  A  dvertiser. 

"  The  book  is  one  for  people  who  are  fond  of  the  country.  It  is  not  merely  in- 
structive, but  is  suggestive  and  stimulating,  and  helps  people  to  use  their  own  eyes  to 
advantage." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  An  introduction  to  a  boundless  world  for  which  every  lover  of  Nature  will  be 
deeply  grateful — luminous,  learned,  appreciative.  ...  A  valuable  and  delightful 
book." — New  Haven  Leader. 

"  The  book  is  most  interesting  and  instructive,  and  will  be  found  to  impart  useful 
knowledge  in  a  most  entertaining  manner."—  Hartford  Post. 


D.   APPLETON   AND   COMPANY,   NEW   YORK. 


D.  APPLETON   AND  COMPANY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


DIRD-LIFE.  A  Guide  to  the  Study  of  our  Common 
Birds.  By  FRANK  M.  CHAPMAN,  Assistant  Curator  of  Mam- 
malogy and  Ornithology,  American  Museum  of  Natural  His- 
tory ;  Author  of  "  Handbook  of  Birds  of  Eastern  North  Amer- 
ica." With  75  full-page  Plates  and  numerous  Text  Drawings 
by  Ernest  Seton  Thompson.  I2mo.  Cloth,  $1.75. 

"  '  Bird-Life  '  is  different  Irom  other  books.  It  deals  with  birds  that  are  familiar,  or 
half  familiar ;  it  interests  the  ignorant  reader  at  once,  and  it  makes  the  relations  between 
birds  and  men  seem  more  intimate.  The  economic  value  ot  birds  will  be  better  appre- 
ciated after  reading  this  book." — Boston  Herald. 

"  Contains  more  information  about  birds,  in  the  same  space,  attractively  as  well  as 
concisely  stated,  than  can  be  found  in  any  other  book  with  which  we  are  acquainted. 
...  A  delightful,  valuable,  instiuctive,  entertaining,  beautiful  book." — Brooklyn 
Sta  nda  rd-  Unto  « . 

"  Most  heartily  can  '  Bird-Life'  be  commended.  It  is  by  a  practical  ornithologist, 
but  it  is  simple  and  comprehensible.  It  is  compact,  pointed,  clear.  .  .  .  The  work  is 
perfectly  reliable.  .  .  .  The  author  uses  every  line  to  give  information.  A  straightfor- 
ward and  very  compact  guide-book  to  bird-land." — Hartford  Post. 

"  An  intelligent  consideration  of  the  book  will  add  to  the  reader's  pleasure  in  his 
walks  in  field  and  wood,  quicken  his  ear,  make  him  hear  and  see  things  which  before 
went  unnoticed.  .  .  .  Gives  the  student  an  introduction  to  ornithology,  which  places 
him  on  the  threshold  of  the  entrance  to  the  innermost  circles  of  bird-life." — Boston 
Times. 


n  the  average  household 


"  Mr.  Chapman's  book  ought  to  be  as  greatly  in  demand  i 
as  a  history  of  one's  country." — Providence  Journal. 

"  The  illustrations  are  undoubtedly  the  best  bird  drawings  ever  produced  in  Amer- 
ica."— Recreation . 

"A  comprehensive  book,  one  that  is  sufficient  for  all  the  ordinary  needs  of  the 
amateur  ornithologist.  It  is  satisfactory  in  every  detail,  and  arranged  with  a  care  and 
method  that  will  draw  praise  from  the  highest  sources.  Every  lover  of  outdoor  life  will 
find  this  book  a  delightful  companion  and  an  invaluable  aid." — Buffalo  Enquirer. 

"A  volume  exceptionally  well  adapted  to  the  requirements  of  people  who  wish  to 
study  common  birds  in  the  simplest  and  most  profitable  manner  possible.  .  .  .  As  a 
readily  intelligible  and  authoritative  guide  this  manual  has  qualities  that  will  commend 
it  at  once  to  the  attention  of  the  discerning  student." — Boston  Beaccn. 

"  Such  a  study  as  every  intelligent  reader  will  desire  to  make,  even  the  busiest  of 
them.  .  .  .  The  author  is  in  every  way  fitted  for  the  task  he  has  taken,  and  his  book 
abounds  in  its  facts  of  value,  and  they  are  pleasingly  and  gracefully  told." — Chicago 
Inter-  Ocean. 

"An  interesting  mass  of  data  collected  through  years  of  study  and  observation.  .  .  . 
While  accurate  from  a  scientific  point  of  view,  it  makes  delightful  reading  for  those  who 
will  soon  be  among  the  flowers  and  the  fields.1' — Philadelphia  Inquirer. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK. 


